


Magnet

by TheGREATCatbsy



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Chuck Hansen Lives, F/M, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGREATCatbsy/pseuds/TheGREATCatbsy
Summary: Chuck Hansen and Evie Greene do not get along - at least, they didn't for his 9 months of pilot training. When the PPDC shuts the jaegers down and they are moved to Hong Kong for the 'resistance', their initial animosity becomes something else entirely. Evie realises that the 'egotistical jerk with daddy issues' has layers, just as Chuck realises it for himself. But how long do they really have to unravel them together?Longfic but all posted in one go. (It's AU but does follow the movie canon in many ways.)
Relationships: Chuck Hansen/Original Female Character(s), Raleigh Becket/Mako Mori
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Magnet

**Author's Note:**

> Chuck Hansen fascinates me. In this fic I have made him older, as I think Rob Kazinsky plays him as less of a young man and more a man in his late 20s/30s - which is not what the comic/book canon suggests - and that he has more capacity to be mature, which gives him more potential story than we see in the film. 
> 
> I have also set this fic only a little time before the film starts and only referred to his and Evie's backstory a few times - it's mostly AU from the film plot and in HK. 
> 
> This is also, in part, inspired by the fanfic 'The Sword and the Shield' which I HIGHLY RECOMMEND you also read.
> 
> Finally, this is a rated M fic, so be warned it gets very sexually explicit in parts!

*

“Miss Greene, thank you for joining us.” Stacker Pentecost, the PPDC Marshall, sat as serene and still as ever as she entered his office, looking like an onyx statue.

Opposite him, looking somewhat embarrassed but kind-faced sat Hercules Hansen, who had been one of the best jaeger pilots on the planet before his brother and co-pilot was dismissed, and his son – who looked as arrogant and insolent as always. Chuck Hansen was the reason she was here.

She ignored Chuck’s eyes on her and shot the Marshall a polite smile, “Thank you for waiting Marshall.” She gave the Hansen’s direction a short nod, only briefly catching the eye of Hercules as she sat on Pentecost’s right, feeling a bit disgruntled that she was now opposite Chuck, whose intense stare she was actively still avoiding. She spent much of her time around the trainee pilot ignoring him wherever possible.

“Now that Miss Greene is with us, we can begin.” Pentecost’s authoritative voice was calm but firm, and he turned to face Evie with a pointed glance at the file she held. She knew part of him was angry at her for not making this easier and that part of him respected her and her work and that he would never show his annoyance as a result.

She gave him a short nod, flipped the file open and began to read, keeping her voice steady, “Ranger C.Hansen has passed all of his training with top scores. He displays powerful martial skill; exceptional neurological stability in solo drift simulation and has passed all his medicals. His physical prowess was noted as particularly suited to the new Mark 5 jaeger’s with his propensity for efficient kill strikes and noted ability in reactivity and precision.” She could practically feel the Australian ex-Marine’s head swell in front of her and hated that she had to read these glowing statements about him. She paused at the thought and couldn’t help but shoot him a cross look, which he had the audacity to smirk at, before casting a glance at the Marshall, wondering if he had noticed. He nodded her on, expressionless. “However, drift compatibility testing with other rangers, in each of the physical, emotional and mental simulators have proven very disappointing.” She glanced at Hercules, who was looking at her with a wary, but resigned face, and she felt sorry for him for a moment, before she shut the file decisively and turned to Pentecost. “We cannot find a drift partner for him and therefore he has cannot progress to the Jaeger pilot programme.”

“Now hang on a second,” Chuck began to speak, his low voice and accent made gravelly by a sudden swell of anger, and perhaps even worry on his part, “I’m the best damn Ranger this place has ever seen-”

“Which means absolutely nothing if you can’t drift with anyone.” Evie shot back at him, eyebrows raised and voice just about staying cool, “Whilst no-one can deny your skills, we cannot actually utilise them if you refuse to engage with the compassionate protocol that creates drift compatibility.” The amount of times she had defended her programme to him or had to deal with his unending arrogance seemed infinite – even though she had only been there 9 months, it felt more like 9 years.

“The protocol is bullshit, I can lead a drift with any one of those…” Chuck’s voice and face were both tight and dark with anger; the same tone and face he had used when she had told him last month to sort his ego if he wanted to pass the pilot training – making what was meant to be a clear professional trainer-trainee dynamic very combative and intense, even now in front of their boss.

“Enough.” Pentecost’s voice was cold with irritation now, “Miss Green’s programming has ensured the most successful training developments. If we can’t find someone you can drift with Ranger; you are useless to us – drifting solo is not a viable option.” He paused, shot them both a quelling look and then turned a somewhat calmer face to Hercules. “However, your father and I may have found a solution.”

Both Evie and Chuck turned surprised, confused looks to Hercules and the Marshall.

Hercules seemed to shoot Evie an apologetic glance before turning to face his son, “We reckon you can drift and pilot with me.”

“No damn way.” Chuck’s retort was a blend of surprise and his usual insolence as he turned in his chair to face his father crossly.

“There will be no piloting for you Ranger without your father.” Pentecost was resolute.

“They can’t just automatically drift because they’re family,” Evie blurted out, finding her voice and airing what seemed like the only reasonable point in the room, “We’d still have to run tests.”

“Then we run tests.” Again, Pentecost was resolute and cool. He left no room for argument; clearly he and Hercules had decided this was Chuck’s only option and that Chuck was worth keeping. Even Evie could admit to the latter point if it was possible, although she felt deeply sorry for Hercules in the matter.

Chuck sat quietly for a moment, glaring at his father – who ducked his head before looking at his son with a strange, touching mix of guilt and firmness, “It’s me or nothing Chuck.”

Evie watched their eyes meet, observing the strange dynamic that always existed between them – Chuck’s resentment and competitive fury, and his father’s ongoing wariness and loyalty. Evie knew something had happened between them; knew that Herc’s wife had died in a previous Kaiju attack and that had left the family shattered… It was the only reason she didn’t hate Chuck Hansen entirely; knowing that he was hurting; seeking revenge; working from anger and loss.

He gave in almost silently; completely out of character for him, before turning to the Marshall and nearly-growling, “When can we start?”

“If you can pass a drift connection in Striker Eureka,” Pentecost paused and Evie turned to him in shock, “you can have her.”

“Ha,” Chuck grinned crookedly, delight writ across his face at the news that the newest jaeger would be his, before he turned smugly to Evie, winked and said, “I told you I’m the best.” Before she could even respond, he whipped his head to his father, “Don’t screw this up for me old man,” and he was out of his chair so fast that he may as well have been launched out of it, “Let’s go.”

**********************************************************************************

That had been the last time she spoke to him before she was promoted. It had probably been the least heated of all their exchanges, and now that he was a pilot – with the highest kill record in jaeger history – she hoped he might have calmed, and only semi-dreaded bumping into him.

It was embarrassing really then, when she first arrived back in Sydney after 6 months working across the PPDC centres in Hong Kong and San Francisco, that his first words to her were, “Found a better pilot than me yet? Or is that why you’re back – need some help from the best?” and that they were delivered – of course – as he barged into a private meeting she was having with Tendo Choi, the new Sydney Lead Drift Engineer, and his father Hercules – the lead Ranger and now Captain of the Sydney base.

“Jesus, Chuck,” Hercules groaned, “shut your damn mouth.”

Evie recovered herself as Chuck leaned his tall, broad body against the door and she said dismissively, “It’s ok Hercules. I am not surprised your co-pilot has forgotten that it was my training programme that made him the best; he always was more brawns than brain.” She hadn’t meant to retort so sharply; it was a habit that was apparently hard to get out of even in her now elevated position and the months apart. She expected a blowback – as he would have in training – but instead he grinned wolfishly and winked – just as he had that day he was told Striker Eureka could be his – and said cockily, “I haven’t forgotten. Just wanted to make sure _you_ hadn’t.”

The wink threw her again; the grin threw her and worst of all, how unbearably attractive he suddenly seemed with a less angry expression, sent a giveaway blush creeping across her cheeks and left her momentarily silenced. She managed to scoff a semi-derisive laugh, which she wasn’t sure convinced him, for his lips quirked up in satisfaction, and she instead turned back to Hercules and Tendo and said, as coolly as she could in ignoring the bemused looks of both men, “I’ll need you both to read through the files in full by the 6am meet tomorrow and make any notes and amendments further to our discussion,” she shuffled her own papers together, “Thanks for your time so far.”

She tried, she honest to God tried, to avoid looking at Chuck as she exited the room – but her damn gaze betrayed her and she found him staring intently back, making her blush deepen. She nearly jogged down the hallway in case he decided to follow her out.

**********************************************************************************

The next time she saw him – to speak to at least, as she had avoided him for the rest of her previous overnight Sydney stay and merely squirmed under his gaze in the dining hall that night – was on her second visit back to Sydney, a week after the PPDC Global Leaders had announced they would be ending the training programme, relying instead on the wall building project. Pentecost had asked her to revisit all the bases and recruit – he had been given 9 months to relocate his top teams and any new replacement recruits she approved and he had sent her to her home base last.

She knew the Striker Eureka team would come to the Hong Kong base and, in all honesty, that was a huge relief – they were in fact the best, with the biggest kill record – but she wasn’t exactly happy she had to be the one to ‘recruit’ them. She knew Chuck would see this as the ultimate victory – that she, of all people, would be the one to return for them.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t – perhaps after close to a year he had forgotten about her, about their sort-of rivalry. She wasn’t sure, as she climbed down from the chopper, and caught sight of him and his father striding toward her, if that what was she really wanted. That thought troubled her as much as the amount of times he had appeared in her dreams did.

When she met them in the middle of the launch pad tarmac, she struggled not to keep looking at him, muddling her way through a friendly conversation with Hercules, and was only fully distracted from how annoyingly handsome Chuck Hansen was now that he no longer argued with her every word when their dog Max appeared. He was a delight. She found herself, for a good few minutes, just mindlessly cooing at him and rubbing his head and tummy until Chuck let out a gruff laugh and said, “Come on you little tart, pack it in.”

“Excuse me?!” she practically launched herself to her feet, indignant and embarrassed, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him furiously; ready for war if that is what they were going back to.

He begun to howl with laughter, bending down to play with his dog in his mirth, and even Hercules grinned as his son eventually managed to say, with a wide smirk, “I meant Max.”

The ground should have swallowed her up - if life was fair. But instead she gaped, flushed and let out an awkward, embarrassed laugh, “Oh my god,” she shook her head and stared at said dog as Chuck stood up to his full height again, looking down at her with amusement, “sorry.” She shook herself though, determined to not seem like a complete idiot – she never had before in front of him – and said, “Although I’m sure you have said ruder things to me in the past.” She made herself sound arch and cool – determined to not let this seemingly calmer, less aggressive, Chuck Hansen get the better of her, just because she had finally internally admitted he was handsome.

“Didn’t want to make it too easy for you, did I? And look at where you are now – _Chief_.” Chuck’s voice was still tinged with amusement; his tone softer still. But his smirk held – was it permanent? Could he physically only smirk or scowl?

Hercules seemed to sense that, despite his son’s attempts to be more charming and teasing, Evie still found him frustrating, was always still ready to fight, so he stepped aside and nodded Evie on, “And what can we do for you? We heard from the Marshall about the PPDC closure.”

Evie turned to him gratefully and they began to walk towards the HQ building, “Thankfully, it’s not quite that simple and not happening quite as fast as they may have wanted. Pentecost put forward a good case for an interim measure.” She felt a tug at her overnight bag on her left and nearly tripped, expecting Max to be at her heels or attached to the bag, and was surprised to find Chuck bending down with a firm grasp on her bag strap. “What are you doing?”

“Never seen a gentleman before?” He grinned up at her, pulling the bag closer to him and standing upright, halting the three of them as Evie did not let go.

She let out a snort, “Gentlemen _ask_ , Chuck.” She had not let go of her bag still and stared up at him, suddenly realising she had called him by his first name for the first time to his face. His eyebrows shot up, as if realising it too, but he did not let go of her bag; his large hand brushing hers on the strap. She let go quickly at noticing that detail and stepped away, nearly bumping into Herc, and managed to force a quip from her mouth to cover any awkwardness, “Don’t strain yourself though; it’s rather heavy.”

Herc chuckled and Chuck grinned wolfishly down at her as they walked in, “Don’t you worry - I could carry you in one hand, _Chief.”_ His use of her title was like a challenge – as if he was threatening to pick her up right now, despite her position.

“I wouldn’t,” Herc said, half-firm, half-amused, before he turned to face Evie and asked, “So what do you need?”

They reached the door and Chuck shoved his left side into it to hold it open for Evie with another smug smirk. She rolled her eyes at him but let out an amused, “Thank you,” and then waited on the threshold of the entryway.

“Do you mind if we continue this in your office Herc; I’d rather not have snippets of it run through the rumour mill before we’re ready to announce.”

Both the Hansen’s eyebrows show up at that and Hercules nodded, “Sure.” He led the way, even though she knew where she was going – it was her old office after all. When they reached it, Herc let her in and she hovered by the now near-empty bookcase, unsure of where to sit. Chuck plonked himself heavily down into one of the two seats opposite the desk and Max let out a soft bark and waggled his way next to Chuck’s boot, where he had dropped her bag.

Herc seemed to sense Evie’s uncertainty and sat next to his son, nodding her at her old seat with a warm smile.

She strode over and took it and sat down; both of the men eyeing her nearly warily.

“We have 9 months,” she stated, “the global leaders have given us 9 months to run a defence interim programme from the Hong Kong Shatterdome. We’ve been funded enough to bring 4 jaegers and their teams, as well as our lead scientists, whilst they complete the walls. After that, they plan on scrapping the PPDC entirely and using the walls and naval force only.”

“Jesus,” Hercules shook his head as Chuck swore and practically growled, “After all these years, they reckon a damn wall will hold the kaiju?”

Evie shook her head sadly, “Apparently that’s exactly what they think. The cost of the jaeger programme is too high – too many losses supposedly,” she pursed her lips crossly, feeling the rage that had burst forth when Pentecost had first told her begin to swell again. “We know they’re wrong.” She looked between the two men seriously, “We’ve been officially funded to run defence, but Pentecost plans to use this time to take one final strike at the breach. Cherno Alpha are bringing a thermo-nuclear detonator with them to the Shatterdome but,” she took a breath and felt guilty all of a sudden, knowing that despite they constantly put their lives on the line, to ask these men her next question was a different kind of risk, “Pentecost wants the best to carry it.” She saw the realisation dawn on each of their faces, “We want Striker Eureka as our lead jaeger.” She wanted to just hold Herc’s gaze, as if that was somehow easier, but instead found her eyes quickly moving to Chuck. He looked, as expected, a touch smug at the request, but also dark-eyed, thoughtful and focussed. There was something a touch heroic in his face even, and she swallowed and looked back to his father.

“We’ve already recruited Gipsy Danger, the Beckett brothers from Anchorage, Crimson Typhoon in HK and Cherno Alpha – the Kaidonovskys from Siberia,” she begun again, “Tendo has already agreed to run the Drift Engineers, we’ve got Dr Geiszler and Dr Gottlieb in the Bio-Chem and Physics labs. We have just about 100 staff for the Shatterdome – most of them already based there.”

“We’re in.” she had barely finished her sentence when Chuck spoke, voice firm and eyes blazing. “You need us, we’re in.”

She glanced at him, then Herc, who nodded once. “When do you need us?”

“As soon as we can get you out of here.” She answered honestly, “We need to get the Shatterdome ready – Gottlieb’s algorithms are predicting more-” she was interrupted by the shrill alarm that all three of them instantly recognised: a kaiju attack.

“Striker Eureka report, Category 4 Otachi is breaching the Syndney wall.”

They shared a look of horror: a wall broken already – the new ‘defence’ already foiled – before the two men were out of their seats, and Evie barely had time to stand when Chuck barked, “Max – stay with Evie,” as he pushed the door open for his father, and he turned back to her briefly, “Get to the comms.”

They were strict instructions for her and the dog and as the door swung shut she looked at Max and said quietly, “It’ll be ok buddy,” before she realised Chuck had used her first name for the first time.

*

When she marched into the Comms room it was so busy that she made it to the front desk where Tendo’s replacement, Allison Hoffman, sat by the Drift Comms Panel, before anyone really noticed it was her.

“Evie,” Alison started as she leaned down next to her, “I didn’t know you were here yet. Can you believe this? Shutting us down and then needing us in the same 48 hours.”

“I can’t believe it breached so soon,” she shook her head and gazed over the familiar screens of the jaeger connections and stats, “How are they looking?”

Alison glanced back at the scanners and then turned to her comms, “Drift connection strong,” she paused and spoke into the mic, “engineers clear the zone.”

Evie watched the scene unfold – she had seen this what felt like hundreds of times now in all her different postings and always felt the same thrill, the same nerves - she grinned widely but shook her head when Alison offered her the comms, afraid her voice wouldn’t hold – it all felt slightly different now that this wasn’t her home base anymore; now that things were changing for the PPDC and now that she didn’t find Chuck Hansen the most unbearable creature on the planet. This was also the first time, she realised, that she had actually been present and witness to him in live action.

Alison counted them in for the drift and once it held stable – as ever for this oddly suited, tempestuous team – Evie turned her attention to the kaiju signals – saw how it had just breached the wall in full and turned to Alison sharply, “They’re going to need to watch where it veers in the bay.”

Alison nodded and turned back to the mic, “Otachi has fully breached the wall and is heading straight for the harbour.”

“Yeah we see the ugly lizard,” Chuck retorted, “We got this. We’re ready for the drop.”

His confidence was both reassuring and alarming and Evie remembered the amount of times in training he had shown such arrogance and how it always riled her. She knew that he and his father had never lost a fight and wondered if it was through sheer force of his cockiness and brute force.

As she watched the screens and listened intently to the backs and forth of Alison and the Hansen’s, she felt the enormity of this moment. This was the last time the PPDC would release a jaeger – would the global leaders really still hold faith in their walls? Would they really still disband them? The illogic of it terrified her.

She realised she had zoned out slightly; worrying over the future and not focussing in on the present, when she hears muffled curses from the comms, and Alison sharply snap out, “Watch your six Striker, Otachi has turned to the city but his signal is under water; could be making a getaway.”

“No chance; we’ve got this bastard.” Chuck growls back, sounding frustrated at the lack of a straightforward battle.

Evie worries for a moment – there is something wrong with this. Kaiju never made getaways; they fought to the death or victory. It was the one thing they had never understood – what instincts drove them to it? What purpose? She cast her eyes back to the scanner and it took her only a moment to grab at the mic from Alison, “Do not chase into the sea – Otachi’s signal is shifting. You’ve injured him but he is not in retreat. Repeat: keep back to Sydney harbour.”

“Come on, we got him.”

Evie realises immediately from his amused tone that he isn’t taken it seriously; he thinks that this is a simple chase – he thinks they have won.

Evie finds herself looking between the screens and Alison, who has a dawning horror in her own eyes as she sees Otachi’s signal strengthen and reappear only 200 metres from them, facing the bay again.

“Check your radars for god’s sake!” Alison does shout into the comms, panicked. 

Herc hears the panic in the two women’s voices but Chuck’s mind is dominating his with confused thoughts of Evie watching, merging with his usual battle aggression and anger at Herc, and making the older man feel exhausted and confused.

Evie’s temper flares when neither of them respond – how could she have thought Chuck had changed? The arrogance here is infuriating, “You are off position. Get back to the harbour – that is an order!” She feels herself nearly shaking in her anger and worry; her voice tight, loud and cold, and she wishes to God that he listens.

It is too late, Otachi pounces out of the water onto Striker’s front and latches onto Striker’s shoulder - the Hansen’s are unable to pull away.

Evie hears their groans of pain as their neurons fire the signals of Striker’s injuries and she freezes as the rest of the comms booth shouts instructions at each other and Alison fights to offer advice into the comms. Her heart stops beating – are they going to make it? She thinks, with a sudden cold terror, of hearing them die – of their bodies broken by this attack – of never seeing Chuck Hansen’s smug face ever again.

When they finally get a hold of Otachi and missile it into pulp, Evie feels the relief flood her; her heart hammering against her ribs as Alison eventually and quietly orders the Jumphawks to retrieve them.

*

The moment Chuck and Hercules exit the Conn-Pod they hear speedy footsteps gradually drawing nearer and a grimace comes from both Hansen’s: they see Evie and Alison striding towards them; both of their face tense and tight. Evie suddenly picks up the pace; her eyes wide and dark and fixed on Chuck and it's like she’s about to run full pace and tackle him to the ground like a tiger.

Chuck freezes: she’s going to unleash and rehash every row they’ve ever had – all the dumb things he did in training; she might actually dismiss him completely, and all his attempts to change her mind about him are completely lost. He can barely look at her as she gets closer to him; he has never seen her so upset before. He almost expects to be slapped across the face.

When she finally reaches him, he looks up when instead she just angrily smacks her hand flat against his chest hard, “What is wrong with you?” She practically growls. “You absolutely morons!" This time his ears, and Herc's, seem to ring with her cry and Alison stops dead two metres back. She smacks her other hand on his chest and looks at him with glassy eyes. She was worried, he realises. He is stunned, moved and his hands shake at his side in surprise. Herc looks at Alison, confused by the scene unfolding, but she too is stunned by this strange display of affection and concern to do anything but look on and then away, almost out of respect. Herc cannot help but watch; Chuck’s awareness of Evie still present in his own mind thanks to the drift load.

After a long moment, Chuck lifts his arms and slowly and gently wrapped them around Evie's arms and he stares down at her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his whole body nearly trembling with the awful knowledge that he had shown her proof of all the worst things she thought of him. His hands grip at her jacket tighter and they both have a sudden feeling that they had done this thousands of time before; held each other like this and for a brief moment she drops her forehead into his chest. They are almost hugging.

Then some of the engineers on the lift start to whir up Striker’s pieces and Evie realises with a sudden shock what she is doing, and she works to gather herself as quickly as she can.

She takes a last deep breath and pulls herself firmly away from Chuck, glancing up at him briefly, but she cannot bear to look at him for long; stunned at the depth of the moment they shared, at her own unexpected reaction and she turns to Herc, attitude completely shifted: back to herself, hiding her embarrassment and looking steely.

“You two need to sort your heads out; that shit will not fly in Hong Kong.” She turns on her heels, avoiding everyone’s looks on her way back to the office where she knows she is going to weep; her heart pummelling hard in her chest.

Chuck faces his father, both faces showing heavy guilt and a touch of awkwardness at what has just happened because Chuck knows his father saw her in his drift and can guess at his feelings, before a bark breaks their silence, Max has finally arrived, evidently having slowly followed Evie and Alison. Chuck bends down to pet him and blocks out the conversation between his father and Alison and instead focusses his shaky hands on stroking Max. They have been in worst fights before; they have watched other jaegers – their pilot teams – die, but Chuck has never felt so bruised until he felt Evie push her head against his chest. He realises, at last, that his physical attraction to her – felt from day 1 of her arrival as a programme evaluator whilst he was training – has grown into something else entirely. He knows she appears in his dreams and drift; knows his father watches them interact too closely and now he knows that what he feels for her is not only something deep, but something that – however small in part – she likely feels too. It is the only thing that keeps him from feeling a total failure.

**********************************************************************************

When the Hansen’s arrived at the Hong Kong Shatterdome three days later, she is nowhere to be seen for the first few hours. Chuck hasn’t really seen her properly since the incident in Sydney. He had sought her out after she didn’t turn up to dinner but discovered – from Alison’s assistant Jackson – that she was having a ‘private dinner’ with Alison. She left early the next morning, having only spoken to his father with instructions for their move to Hong Kong.

When they do see each other again, he catches sight of her in the dining hall, laughing next two blond men who he recognises as the Beckett brother pilots of Gipsy Danger, and he can’t help but feel a small stab of envy. He has never made her laugh. It reminds him of the days that some of the other pilots, and engineers, would flirt with her in Sydney – of how warm and friendly she was and how quickly her attention on him was the total opposite. He strides over to the table, seeing his father claim the seat next to her and he arrives just as she is making introductions.

She falters mid-sentence when she sees him and then turns back to the Becketts, “And this is Chuck – Herc’s son and co-pilot.”

He sits down opposite her, next to what appears to be the young brother, and smirks at his father, “He’s more like my co-pilot. You guys must be the Becketts?”

The man sitting next to him nods and his tone is curious but friendly, “Raleigh.” He doesn’t offer a hand, but his brother, Yancy, introduces himself and politely does. Chuck can tell already that Yancy is the elder of the two.

Chuck grips his hand a touch too tight, seeing Yancy raise his eyebrows in surprise, and turns to Evie, “Missed me?” It sounds like a cruel taunt, but he means it as a tease, his voice perhaps a touch too aggressive – but he is determined to gauge her reaction, to see if she will engage in their typical banter – and he ignores the surprised looks of the Beckett’s and his father’s wariness.

“That’s a bit of stretch,” she retorts archly, looking unimpressed, “For you anyway.” She shoots Herc an almost coy smile and asks, “Where’s Max?”

Herc chuckles but shoots his son a warning glance as he sees him shift in his seat to reply. Chuck ignores the look and snarks, “Nice try – you’re the one who asked me to come remember. Said we were the best.” He grins and maintains a steady gaze on Evie’s face, sparing the Beckett’s a provocative eyebrow raise, and enjoying the way her eyes dart to his and away and then back. He can see she is getting embarrassed, which he thinks is a victory.

Until she scowls and rolls her eyes, picks her tray up and says crossly, “Sorry Herc, do you mind letting me out. I’m not in the mood for this.”

Herc nods straightaway, shooting his son a disappointed look, and the Beckett’s wave her away. She says a polite “Catch you later,” to them all and strides off without another look in Chuck’s direction.

He stares after her, confused and a touch humiliated – he can feel the curious and already judgemental eyes of the Beckett’s on him, hears his father making conversation as if to cover his embarrassment of him. He turns around angrily and hears himself make a remark about the old mark engineering of Gipsy Danger and how it must reflect their lack of skills; it spills rudely out of his mouth and he finds a spark of restored egotistical pride returned when both Beckett’s turn to him looking surprised and insulted. The rest of the argument nearly erases Evie from his mind; particularly when his father and Yancy manage to turn it into a conversation about jaeger developments. He exits without saying goodbye after 15minutes; mind turned back to Evie and her reaction. He thought he understood their dynamic; how to turn their bickering into banter; how to tease her into submission; he thought it was clear how to engage with her – that she enjoyed his cocky teasing. He recalled how she had looked at him when he had returned from the Otachi mission – how she had dropped against him. Had that not been anything other than relief? Or worse, resignation? She had avoided him after that, and now this? His worry turned to anger – at himself, her, his father for his careful watching, at the knowledge his father had about his feelings, at the damn Beckett’s for making her laugh.

He stomped back to his room, where Max was still asleep, stripped and took to the shower, determined to focus his attention to where it needed to be like he had all those months she was away from Sydney and he was finally a pilot. He wasn’t convinced these other pilots could step up to the mark – the Beckett’s seemed a bit wet to him, and even though Cherno Alpha were the longest serving pilots they had the oldest mark jaeger, and Crimson Typhoon were still fairly new to the game. He pressed his forehead to the cold, cream tiles of the shower cubicle and let the water wash over his back and chest, where some of the bruises from the Otachi encounter were still forming, and closed his eyes. He reached back to the shower shelf for his shower gel and soaped himself down, trying not to think of Evie’s face pressed against his chest, her hand curled around his bicep. It didn’t take long for those thoughts to dominate instead – to twist into her being in the shower with him now, to imagine holding her against him, feeling her skin against his, being able to see her naked and touch her and kiss her… it didn’t take long for him to grip and pump himself into orgasm, picturing himself buried in her, holding her up against the cubicle wall, hearing her chant his name.

He dreamt of her again that night.

**********************************************************************************

For the following month, Chuck tried harder to gauge her moods; when she was ‘in the mood’ to bicker and banter; which remarks were ‘too far’; when to leave her own cross attempts at provocation with a mere wink. He learned more about her – watched her more closely and begun to understand who she was: and without any kaiju attacks he had nothing else to do – this, Evie, was his sole focus. As she supported Pentecost in supervising Mako’s training programme for any potential replacements and Tendo’s drift management, she showed determination for perfection through a just system that worked by engaging with people. She had excellent people skills; knew how to be firm and supportive, but was never as cold as Pentecost; she was always witty – which he knew from experience could be chilling if she was angry – but was often warm and tactile. She grew close, quickly, with the Beckett’s for she had met them several times before – which Chuck resented, for he had caught sight of the way Yancy eyed her occasionally – and already knew Mako and Tendo well. But Chuck quickly discovered his two favourite things about Evie - her sense of humour: she laughed at most jokes, made excellent quick quips of her own and found it difficult to keep her face straight when he, or someone else – often Tendo, made an absurd or cheeky comment in response to Pentecost’s lectures or in meetings. His second favourite thing was how affectionate she was, which he hoped to be a recipient of one day, and how much she showed that to Max – he viewed this as the gateway; Max often lead Chuck to her, or vice versa, like some sort of canine cupid.

*

It was precisely a month and 11 days since they had all arrived in Hong Kong that they began to become friends – the same day the first Kaiju came out of the breach. They were quick to deploy Crimson Typhoon first; it was home turf and it had been made abundantly clear that Striker and Gipsy were the primary jaegers needed for the breach mission as soon as Geiszler and Gottlieb’s strategies were ready. It should have been a straightforward fight – the kaiju was a mark 3, codenamed: Ironhide, for its rhino-like build, and moved slowly with its weight. The Typhoon had taken one out similar to it only a few months prior. They had a good grip around its bulky hide, their cannon ready, when – without warning – it seemed to grow a tail, unravelling from its hind, with a disturbingly sharp mace end. Pentecost and Tendo both barked into the comms their warnings and advice, and the other pilots, Mako and Evie all gathered closer to the scanners and screens in panic. It unravelled quickly from there; with the sounds of crushing metal, scraping and snapping of armour and parts – the kaiju’s tail becoming too much, snapping so fast that Typhoon could merely hang on to it and ended up wildly firing their cannon, catching just the sides of the hide.

Chuck couldn’t stand the sound much longer and barked out loudly, “They’re not going to win this one Marshall, get Alpha out there!” The Russian jaeger was waiting for deployment, if needed.

“No,” Pentecost barked back but his follow-up was interrupted by garbled shouts from Typhoon and a cacophonic splash – they had been taken down into the waters with Ironhide climbing atop them. Pentecost spun back to the comms as Tendo and Hercules called back instructions into it. Everyone listened in and Chuck swore and moved closer next to Evie. She turned up to him and he said angrily, “We need to get in there. I can’t just listen to this.”

His seriousness, something even earnest and hurting in his face touched her and she nodded up at him, before another siren burst forth from the scanner – another kaiju had breached. She leapt forward at that, just as the Marshall turned around to check, and said firmly to him, “Send out Cherno, Marshall, they’re ready.” His eyes locked down on hers – not many would dare to give him what seemed like a direct order so publicly.

“Cherno Alpha, get ready to connect and unload. Second kaiju breaching.” The Marshall’s voice was cold and unshaken when he spoke, “Hold on Typhoon. You need to get hold of that tail.”

Evie took hold of the second comm next to Tendo, “Typhoon – try and use the plasma sword to remove the tail. Alpha is coming.” Her voice was firm, showing no fear or panic, and she turned to Tendo, “Send them a drift burst – they need the adrenaline.”

Tendo shot the Marshall a quick, unsure glance, but he nodded quickly and Tendo followed her instruction. By the time Alpha had reached them and the encroaching Mark 3 Tessai, a lizard like kaiju, Typhoon had overwhelmed Ironhide using Evie’s recommendation and was able to slice its tail from its body, before emerging from the depths and using the cut-off mace end against the creature.

The rest of the battle was more straightforward, it seemed. Typhoon, despite the damage, killed Ironhide as Alpha quickly dominated Tessai. They were both back in the Shatterdome, mid-repairs, within an hour and the comms unit dissipated. Despite the final victories, the mood was low – Typhoon needed serious repairs and everyone felt Alpha had been delayed too long. Evie hesitated in the comms room with Herc, Tendo and Pentecost, catching Chuck’s eyes as he slowly exited the room. She twisted her mouth to show him her displeasure and he nodded in agreement.

“Marshall,” she started into the silence, the three men all looking exhausted and various levels of angry, “we waited too long to launch Alpha.” She knew it was the obvious thing to say – knew they all knew it – but his delay, his inexplicable delay and lack of foresight – cost them and could have been worse.

Pentecost turned to her, saw her stood resolute next to Herc and saw the same look of wariness and disappointment on both their faces before he glanced down at Tendo. No one said anything. “We have to be careful with the risks to each jaeger, but more importantly to the overall goal. We’re here to end the apocalypse. This is a high-stakes game.”

“And if we don’t play smarter, we’re not going to have a hand in it.” Evie retorted smartly, before turning on her heel. She was unprepared to argue – unprepared to debate the mistakes, the plans – and more importantly, she wanted out of that room, away from the room where every sound she heard made her fear the worst.

She was surprised to see Chuck lingering in the hallway, Max at his heels. He gave her a short smile.

“Hey,” she said softly, heaving a sigh and bending down to stroke Max, who nuzzled affectionately into her side. She stood up after a moment and Chuck eyed her, face still serious.

“Ok?” he asked after a moment, his eyes softening as she shrugged downheartedly.

She looked down at Max, and heard herself say “Fancy a walk?” She glanced shyly back up at Chuck, surprised at herself, and evidently surprising him too. He took a moment, eyebrows raised, before he nodded once and then motioned her on.

They walked in silence and Chuck let her lead the way – she inadvertently took them to inners of the Shatterdome; climbing the iron stairs towards one of the Conn-Pod stations. She didn’t stop walking until she reached the balcony edge, and she pushed herself up on to her tiptoes and stared down at the work happening on Crimson Typhoon. Despite the mood – the disappointment and worry they both felt – Chuck found an edge of amusement in how short she was.

He watched her for a moment; tried to avoid just staring at the skin showing at the arch of her back where her jumper had ridden up and at the curve of her bottom, before she turned around and said, a little shakily, “That was pretty fucked up right?”

He strode over towards her immediately and leant at her side, “Yeah,” but he shrugged slightly, “but it could have been worse.”

She let out a long sigh and stood up straight, turning to look up at him. Had her face not been so earnest he would have grinned at how much she tilted her head – he often forgot how small she was. “I don’t know what that was – why he hesitated; what the reason was for that delay…” she trailed off and turned around just as sparks from the engineer level below them burst up around their feet, making Max bark in excitement and surprise. She laughed and Chuck grinned, crouching down to rub the dog and calm him. He let out a muffled, happy whine and sat down. Evie stared down at them and couldn’t help the warm smile spread across her face when Chuck glanced up. She loved how he treated Max – how it showed what a heart he had really. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he stood back up, Max slumped against his legs, and she glanced away, back towards the jaegers.

“Look,” Chuck started, “we got there in the end. The Marshall is trying to keep back as many jaegers as possible for the breach strike…” he didn’t want to say that it didn’t matter to lose more pilots for a bigger cause; that wasn’t really what he meant, but he couldn’t really find the words to explain himself. He was angry too – at the Marshall, at the circumstances of the whole PPDC, even at himself for being just a witness to that.

She turned back to face him again and nodded, seemingly understanding, “I know. He knows what he’s doing – but he’s not infallible and I guess,” she shook her head again, “I just can’t believe this is where we are. That this could really be the last shot and if we lose…” she stopped and looked back at the jaegers and the engineers working so hard below them. After all this time, the investment, the battles – the literal changing of their universe with the kaiju’s arrival - and the ultimate fear that they could not survive this in the end…

“We’re going to win,” Chuck’s voice, low and cocky, but oddly soothing, interrupted her reverie. “What do you think I’ve been getting ready for all this time?”

She couldn’t help but laugh and duck her head away from him, biting her lip and feeling a warmth shoot up her spine as he edged closer, his forearm nearly brushing hers on the railing and she near-whispered, “That’s oddly comforting.”

“Well – pilot’s duty. Win or die.”

She lifted her head to look at him as he leant down against the railings, making him shorter than her for a moment, and felt a sudden painful lurch in her chest and gut and she said softly, “Don’t die though.”

He stood back up and looked down at her semi-seriously, “Don’t worry – I’m not going anywhere,” he winked slowly and she blushed, turning her head away with a soft snort of laughter, and bit her lip. He watched the whole motion intently; kept his eyes fixed on hers even as she turned her head back to face him, cheeks a touch pink, and their gazes locked. Then her teeth released her bottom lip and his eyes darted down, watching her pink lips – he had always thought she had the prettiest mouth – purse lightly and part. He lifted his eyes, his whole body feeling alight with adrenaline and desire and, for a moment, could have sworn her eyes were on his mouth. But then she turned away again and was silent.

Neither of them said anything more for a few minutes; both wondering what the other was thinking; both feeling their pulses rush in their ears; both feeling a pool of desire sitting low in them. Evie’s mind was working quicker than Chuck’s – trying to think of something to say to break any awkwardness, wondering exactly at what point she had started to actually like the guy; both worrying and wishing he was going to have kissed her… Chuck’s mind was slower, more focussed, enjoying the moment and her softening towards him and feeling a sense of success.

More sparks from below made Max bark again and started them both and Evie laughed, watching Max paw at Chuck’s leg until he leant down to stroke his head. She watched again for a moment as Chuck grumbled fondly at Max, and then said, “I think I’m going to head for a shower. You coming?”

She froze, eyes wide, as he turned his head up to her, his deep blue eyes sparkling, and before his smirk could blossom too far, before he could even open his mouth, she snapped warningly, “Don’t even!” and pointed crossly at him, before lowering her hand and rolling her eyes and striding away.

He grinned after her and suggestively called, “Maybe next time,” before worrying if she would find that line too much; too sexual; too cocky and he held his breath until she turned around by the stairwell and with half a grin on her face and said coolly, “Keep dreaming Hansen.” She held his gaze and seemed almost invitational before she swung around and seemed to bounce down the stairs. Chuck bent down, rubbed at Max and grinned widely, “Reckon I got her Max.”

*********************************************************************************

For the following weeks, they seemed to gravitate towards each other – Chuck would often appear at training, making cocky or cheeky comments about the recruits and making Evie either tell him off or laugh; Evie had started to join him on his post-breakfast walk for Max; Chuck seemed to save her a seat at every meal and she had got into the habit, seemingly without knowing, of plopping her potatoes or bread onto his plate. Nobody commented but most of the others had picked up on it and it took two events before Yancy - the most put out of them due to his own romantic feelings for Evie – challenged Chuck on it.

The first event was at dinner – it had been a challenging day. The Global Leaders had called the team – Evie, Mako, Tendo, Pentecost and all the pilots – in for what seemed to only be a virtual dressing down of the ‘foolish resistance work’ they were doing there. Then there had been an issue amongst some of the engineers of Gipsy and Striker – an argument that had spiralled into the Marshall’s office about provisions. Finally, some of the power was out in the kitchens and the Jaeger teams had been given precedent to eat first – in case of an attack. There was a general poor mood across the base and the Beckett’s, Chuck and Evie wedged around a table and were all quiet. Evie had elected to not eat with the pilots – feeling she’d be pushing her luck, particularly without the presence of Mako or Herc, who had been sent out to meet with the mechanics team in Hong Kong.

“It’s just not a necessity that I eat now – it’s fairer to let others go in and make them feel like I’m not trying to quantify positions above them.” Evie explained, when Raleigh followed more empathetically up on Chuck’s first attempt at “Go get food.”

“Do you think the Marshall isn’t eating?” Chuck replied, shoving his tray at Evie with a cross face and waving his hand over it to get her eat, “You’re not some lacky.”

“Lacky?” Yancy scoffed, “Jesus – you can be a real asshole. These guys run the joint.”

It was a shock for them all; Yancy and Mako were always the two least likely people to challenge Chuck, often ignoring him completely. It took Chuck a minute to recover before he scowled, “And you think she doesn’t?” He angrily jabbed a thumb in Evie’s direction, “She’s more useful than you are Yaaancy,” he deliberately dragged out the ‘a’ sound in a sarcastic drawl.

Evie stared at Chuck, stunned and touched that his combativeness was in defence of her but thinking he had somehow missed Yancy’s point entirely still. “Chuck,” she said quietly, before anyone could respond, “That’s not what he meant.”

Chuck turned to face her, eyes dark with anger still, and raised his eyebrows. Yancy took his chance.

“You still think you’re the best – even here?” The normally calm-faced older Beckett was scowling darkly and Evie wondered how far the Gipsy vs Striker team issue had actually developed. Had the pilots been fighting earlier too? Why was Yancy so angry? “You’re the most arrogant-”

“Oh pack it in Yance,” Evie turned to him wearily, “we’ve all had a shit day ok? Just lay off him.” She met his blue eyes for a moment, barely noticing the betrayal he felt in them, before turning back to Chuck and saying, more firmly but somehow playful too, “You too. Or I will literally eat all of your potatoes tonight.”

Chuck stared back at her and quirked a smile, shaking his head softly, and watching with satisfaction when she did fork some broccoli off his plate. He took a moment to glance up, witness the defeat on Yancy’s face and feel a sense of victory. She had defended him. He caught Raleigh’s eyes on him, looking curious and wary, and he shot him a cocky grin, before Evie nudged his arm and he glanced down to see her grinning at Max, who had his paws on her thigh and was watching her wave the broccoli on her fork with delight.

Not long after that, Yancy left without a word and his brother followed shortly after.

*

A few days later, Chuck was – typically for his daytime routine now – hanging around Evie’s training programme. Sometimes he would be in her office as she perused files and wrote reports or annotations for Mako to follow up on; sometimes he’d watch the drift simulations with her or follow her into meetings with Tendo (despite Evie telling him countless times they were private and sending him away) - today he was watching the physical training. Mako and Evie were ranking the recruits and checking their scores and martial patterns against the existing scores data. Pentecost wanted one pair selected within the next 5 days – in time for when he hoped another shut down jaeger from Peru would be in Hong Kong, its past pilots both dead and in need of new ones.

Chuck watched mostly silently, impressed by some; nearly laughing at others and occasionally offering a quiet comment to Evie. Raleigh and Yancy had both turned up, as had the Russians and Chinese pilots, to watch. It was – for the pilots – the most important aspect of training to witness, partly because they could sense and understand the dynamics of a fight and see first-hand how useful the recruits may be in battle.

It took a while to get through most of the recruits, and Evie could sense Mako was getting frustrated – she knew how bad Mako wanted to pilot, knew that Mako – and she herself – could take most of these recruits on easily. She and Mako had, in the past, discussed training together, but Pentecost had told them both that they were more valuable in their existing posts. Evie secretly agreed with him – she worried Mako’s past was too traumatic to drift with and that they were both better academics than soldiers. But watching these rounds of recruits fail to create much drift compatibility - to stop seeing the fights as just fights – was maddening.

When the last round was a dull 4-1, she called for a break and sent them all off to stretch and rehydrate.

“Well that’s all been pretty shit,” Chuck commented dryly, “Where’d you find this lot?” he directed his incredulous question to Mako, who gave him a cross look.

“It’s not Mako’s fault,” Evie retorted, “We haven’t exactly gotten used to the accelerated progamming we’ve having to use here. It’s hard to get them focussed on what we’re doing.” The Chinese team had left already and the Russian couple were hovering, stone-faced as ever, in the archway. “It’s not like with you guys,” she added to Chuck and the Beckett’s, as Mako scrolled through the data again with a sour face, “you knew what the fights were for – how to connect – this lot just want to win because of the scoring system.” She paused as they all looked back at her and then turned suddenly, a lit with ideas, back to Mako. “Why don’t we show them?”

Mako lookde up, uncertain, “What do you mean?”

“We’ll show them what we want – you and I can do it; we can get these guys,” she waved a hand back towards the Becketts, “we need to remind them that it’s more like a dance than a battle.”

Mako smiled softly and looked relieved and excited, “Yes, good idea.”

“Great idea,” Raleigh echoed from behind, edging closer with his brother, “We’d be happy to help.”

“Yeah,” Chuck leant against the wall, “Good idea Evie – but it ain’t going to work.”

They all turned to him and Evie raised her eyebrows, “Why not?”

“Because you know each other – you’ve done it before. You’re asking these guys to create partnerships without having done this before. It’s not the same thing.”

Evie considered him for a moment, arms crossed over his muscled chest, dog tags hanging beneath them and how serious he looked – no sense of mocking, just a genuine point.

“Well then switch it up,” Raleigh suggested, “You and I could go a round?” He grinned cockily at his brother, but faced Chuck – clearly his intended ‘you.’

“No,” Mako said thoughtfully, “not two pilots. It’s still too obvious.” She exchanged a quick look with Evie, who grinned, knowing Mako wanted to fight and ready to support her. “It should be one of us with one of you.”

“That’s pretty tough odds for you,” Chuck replied smartly, but he had leaned off the wall and edged closer, looking intrigued. He raised his eyebrows at Evie.

“I think either of us could take you.” She grinned widely back, half-joking, for the thought of martial testing with him was both nerve-wracking and exciting.

“Let’s give it a go then.” He smirked, eyes locked on hers in a somewhat predatory manner.

Evie faltered, she hadn’t really meant she would fight him – or that she would be the one to fight at all. He took advantage of her silence as the recruits returned and said, “It’s not like Mako’s allowed to fight, is it?”

This was a low blow to Evie and Mako; but Chuck knew what he wanted. The thought of facing Evie in the martial ring; seeing what she could do; to build chemistry with her like that – he grinned wolfishly as Mako ducked her head and quietly said, “He’s right. You two should start – we’ll record your scores.”

“And when they come back with zero percent? I don’t think anyone but Herc could drift with this guy.” Raleigh answered, half-joking, half-taunting, and Yancy chuckled next to him.

Chuck ignored them – gaze challenging and predatory and Evie felt a thrill and bristle at it.

“Fine,” she said eventually to him, crouching to undo her boots, “but no backsies.” She shot him a cheeky smile, trying to hide her nerves by focussing quickly back on her laces. When she had got them undone, she slid her boots off and stepped down to the ring, carrying them with her.

“Recruits,” she announced, hushing the remnants of quiet conversation as they re-gathered, “thank you for your time and effort so far. Miss Mori and I have seen some skill here – there is clearly physical and martial prowess. However,” she felt Chuck step down to her side and avoided looking at him to stay professional and calm, “many of you are approaching these rounds as competitions – as chances for victory. You are facing each other like jaeger and kaiju – not facing each other as potential partners and co-pilots. These fights,” she briefly motioned to the ring and sticks, “are not about who gets the most points, but about understanding one another’s movements and determining a connection.” At this point, she looked up at Chuck, feeling his gaze on her still, “Ranger Chuck Hansen has kindly offered to help in this regard. Remember,” she turned her eyes back on the recruits – noting with annoyance their keenness in understanding what they were about to see, “this is not about competition – it’s about connection.”

She had used that word twice now - ‘connection’ – and was starting to wish she had talked her way out of this. What exactly did she expect to happen here? They would be looking to see their dynamic; how they moved… the thought of it flustered her and she marched over to the opposite side, picked up her stick and pulled her jumper over her head quickly, leaving herself barefoot and in her cargo trousers and a vest top. She sucked in a breath and thought about the moves she knew; most of which Herc or the Marshall had taught her about how to use her small size and flexibility. She also knew a lot of Chuck’s moves – how fast and precise he was; how he worked with his brute force more than anything. She twirled her stick in her palms, reminding herself of the weight and balance, and almost dropped it when she looked up to see Chuck pulling his shirt over his head, one hand grabbing his khaki shirt from the back of his neck. It seemed a desperately unfair and unnecessary move. Her mouth dried out completely and she felt goose bumps creep across her whole body. She knew he was muscular; knew his body was bound to be impressive – she had thought about it after all, eyed his biceps and most of his bodily outline when she couldn’t stop herself. But this was different – he was metres away, shirtless, with a fine smattering of hair across his chest; broad shoulders and pecs and a trail of fine hair leading her eyes down to a taut six-pack and his waistband. She could physically feel the want pool in her and made herself tear her eyes away and she actually had to tap herself with her stick to get her focus back. When she looked back at him, he was smirking dangerously and she knew, just _knew_ , that he had seen her eyeing him. She scowled, took a step onto the mat and prepared herself with her starting move. She had no idea how he had eyed her; how he too had felt desire at seeing more of her skin than he ever had before.

When he joined her, she was quick to make the first move, taking advantage of his natural cockiness and catch him out with a clear shot to the neck. Her tap was light but meaningful and she grinned widely, biting her lip in pleasure at the surprised look on his face, before she stepped back and readied herself again. He moved in like a tiger and she was a gazelle – it was the perfect analogy for the fight. He launched and pounced and struck hard with a heavy hand and she had to dance and bounce and twist out of the way; it seemed hours that this first routine ran its course to him catching her on the ribs and he beamed at her scowl, “1-1.”

She barely waited for him to be ready before she leapt at him, stick held horizontal to hold back any attacks back, and she manage to dodge 3 before she slid herself nearly into the front splits to shove his arms out of her way from underneath and bring her stick into his thigh. He started back, looking impressed and held his stick like a staff next to him as he watched her push herself to her feet. He waited a moment before he came hard again, one hand behind his back and within seconds of several hard slams of his stick over her he pulled his free hand around to grasp at her waist, bend one knee, and flop her down over his bent knee as if they were at the end of a tango, and hold his stick to her throat lightly.

If she was perfectly honest, she had never been more turned on in her entire life than she was in that moment – draped over his strong thigh, his bare chest pressed against her side and his face hovering directly over her throat, as if at any time he would bare his teeth or press his lips against her skin. She lifted her head up to stare at him and his eyes were on hers in an instant and he whispered throatily, “2-2,” before hoisting her up against his chest and standing her upright.

She pushed herself away from him quickly, holding her stick down at her side like a sword in its sheath and whispered, “Come on then,” in a voice that sounded to both of them like an invitation to do something far different than martial arts. She hoped he didn’t notice; he had.

He nodded and practically growled, “Whatever you want.” It was as if no-one was in the room with them anymore. Except there were the other pilots; Mako; Herc had even appeared at some point and all the recruits watching with intrigued fascination.

She didn’t move, letting him come to her, hoping he would make the one step, one lunge, that would allow her next move to work. If not, she knew this next point would be his again. But several hard strikes and swipes in and he moved, lunged to the left, and she spun herself, pirouetted like a ballerina, dropped down to her knees and swiped his left leg further out, causing his balance to wobble enough that she could use her forearms and stick to push him forward by his back. He moved at the last minute, turned suddenly and grabbed hold of her stick with both hands, having dropped his own to do so. She lost her own balance on her knees and tumbled to the side, falling into his crooked legs and pulling him down with her so they both still gripped the stick but were tangled together. His strength was a boon here – he practically lifted her with the stick in the air as he struggled to stand, and Evie’s flexibility, and desperation to not fall with a painful thump on the mat, allowed her to wrap her legs quickly around his waist, thump her feet into his bum and swing her chest forward so that – embarrassing as it was – her breasts hit him square in the fact. It hadn’t been her intention to essentially get him to motorboat her as a tactic, but his surprise at the impact, loosened his grip on the stick and she tugged it from his grip as his hands moved automatically to her waist and she brought it down against his back, a little harder than she meant to and felt, more than heard, his muffled groan against her breasts. She pulled back, moving – with a sudden mortification – her breasts away from his face and saw the expressions of her co-workers with a total clarity. Raleigh and Herc looked impressed - the latter even a touch embarrassed, and Mako looked both amused and shocked, Yancy’s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, a frown wormed across his face. Even the Russians looked entertained – wide, knowing grins across their faces. It wasn’t until Chuck’s hands slid slowly down her waist to her hips, gripped tighter as if to keep her there, that she spotted the Marshall.

“Marshall,” she practically squeaked, and started to wriggle desperately, making Chuck nearly drop her to the floor, bending at the last minute so when she dropped her legs from his waist that she merely dropped the stick behind him and could stumble away. “We were just…”

Why she felt the need to explain, or defend this, escaped her – but not many others. The Marshall, thankfully, saved her and said coolly, “Demonstrating excellent drift compatibility in martial routine.” He nodded as she gawped at him and Chuck turned around, looking a little flush himself, “You two seemed to have picked up a 98% prediction here.” He nodded again, this time at Mako’s i-pad, “I hope,” he took a step down towards the ring and Evie kept her eyes locked on him, mainly to avoid looking at anyone else, knowing she could only stay impassive when looking his way, “that this shows these recruits that physical drift compatibility is not about winning a martial victory nor about the matching of physical styles, but the ability of function as one – to create movement that appears as one.” Pentecost gave Chuck and Evie an oddly pointed look before he looked back to his recruits. “I want to see something like this from each of you. You have 10 minutes to ready yourselves. In the meantime,” he turned back to face the others, “I need to speak to Miss Greene.” He glanced then to her discarded top and boots.

She gave him a quick nod, darted to collect her things, ignoring the somewhat hushed chatter of the recruits, ignoring the ringing of ‘90’ around her head and the feeling of Chuck’s skin against hers, as she pulled her socks and boots on, and stood up with her jumper in hand. Chuck was still in the middle of the ring where she had clambered down from him and he watched her as she turned around. She met his eyes and her lips quirked up involuntarily, at the sight of him bare-chested, dark eyed and flushed, but just enough for him to smugly notice her own blush, before she followed the Marshall as he marched off. She didn’t look at anyone else, only wondering at what point fighting Chuck Hansen felt like foreplay and if anyone else noticed that. She really, really hoped not.

*

Whilst most of the observers wouldn’t have been that rude, or noticed the chemistry between the two of them that intently, it was certainly clear – from the fight and the Marshall’s announcement of their very high score – that there was something between the two. Whilst Mako and Raleigh were curious, a touch impressed and a little confused and concerned as to whether the growing friendship between Chuck and Evie was that suitable, it bothered Herc and Yancy the most.

Herc’s concern was primarily for his son – he wasn’t convinced that Chuck had the emotional maturity to be straight with Evie about his feelings, or that Evie would be able to see past Chuck’s flaws. He knew his son’s feelings for Evie ran deep, they always had - despite Chuck’s initial, almost- intentional ignorance to it – for he had seen her in the drift since their early piloting days. At first, the glimpses were of arguments – the only real memories Chuck had of her when she left for her promotion – but as time went on, and especially after she came back for her first visit, there were shots of her smile, focusses in on her wide eyes. The last time they had been in the drift, when Chuck’s arrogance had got the better of them both and she had been there to witness it, he had practically felt Chuck’s desire to impress her… it was a discomfort and vulnerability of a drift connection – not just seeing someone’s thoughts and memories but also feeling them on occasion. Perhaps, Herc reasoned, as he watched his son stare after Evie and the Marshall, that was why he felt so concerned and uncomfortable – he knew how much his son wanted her and felt the same fear Chuck felt that he would never have her.

Yancy’s concern, his envy even, was built on his dislike of Chuck – he had never been a man to appreciate arrogance or cockiness in any form– and his feelings for Evie. He could see the bond they shared; the way they looked at each other and the time they spent together… this scene between them, the damn 98% evidence of their ‘compatibility’, felt like a physical kick. To think that Evie would find Chuck actually appealing; that whatever flirtation the two had could be serious… he didn’t trust that Chuck Hansen could really care for, or respect, anyone but himself.

The thought brewed within him all day, driving him to take his frustrations out in the gym and brush off Raleigh’s concerns. Yancy was not an aggressive man by nature; he was pragmatic and settled; he knew himself well; he was controlled and he knew how to manage his emotions. He had calmed himself when Chuck Hansen appeared in the training room. Yancy knew later that he should have left; followed his instincts to head back, shower and decompress himself. Instead, he found himself frustrated even at Chuck’s nonverbal nod ‘hello’. He watched the Hansen son head straight for the weights, chalk his hands up and heard himself ask, “What the hell is going on with you and Evie?”

Chuck shook the loose chalk from his hands and stared at Yancy with a mixture of nonchalance and superiority, “What’s it to do with you Beckett?” He knew exactly why Yancy asked; he wasn’t blind to the man’s interest in Evie – as romantic rivals often aren’t. But he wanted to make the man say it.

Yancy glared, “You do realise she is a really good woman?”

Chuck’s eyebrows shot up, almost amused and annoyed at once, “And what are you – her dad defending her honour?”

“Come on Chuck,” Yancy said exasperated, “she’s not a girl to fuck around with.”

“And you’re telling me that’s not what you want to do with her?” Chuck shot back, flexing his muscles at the thought. He eyed Yancy with distaste. He had no qualms with punching the man if he even mentioned Evie like that again.

Yancy scowled and nearly took a step forward, stopping himself at the last minute, “You’re an asshole and she deserves better.” He turned to walk away, halfway to the door when Chuck called out, “Like you? You think you got a shot huh? Reckon she ain’t interested in you and that’s your real problem.”

Yancy spun around, “And you think you can rein in a bit of your bullshit and win her over?” he scoffed, making Chuck scowl, “She’s ten times smarter than you – she’ll work it out.” And he swung through the gym doors, wishing he could feel more sure that Evie’s feelings, for she surely had some, were not enough to develop any further.

Chuck glared after him, furious and perturbed, was that what Evie would think? That his interest in her was to fuck her only? Sure, he could admit how much he wanted her, he thought about it most nights. But he respected her, admired her, always had – even when he challenged her and fought with her in his training days. Yancy Beckett, as far as Chuck was concerned, barely knew her and could fuck off.

He turned to the weights, remembered the feeling of Evie’s body in his hands, of her sparkling eyes in the ring, and grinned. He knew her and he knew she felt something too.

*

That same night, the recruits were sent away. Evie had been pulled from the training ring that day because the Peruvian jaeger hadn’t made it to Hong Kong; the GL’s wouldn’t fund it. That evening, she and Mako packed up the programme and were asked to collate all the files and get all the recruits home. She and Mako were both upset, but each a bit relieved – in part, for Evie at least, because the Marshall had insisted their positions were still secure. Mako would work with the jaeger engineers and Evie would work more closely with Tendo again – analysing the kaiju data and liaising with Geiszler and Gottlieb where needed.

It was enough news and change to keep her mind from wandering back to Chuck and the fight, and their high drift score, at least until she got to her dorm in the early hours at last and trailed her own hands across her body in her shower, eyes squeezed shut as she pictured Chuck – a vivid memory – shirtless and looming over her, his hands sliding where hers did, his mouth latched onto her neck and moving down. She dipped her fingers between her thighs and into her folds; slid and twisted the pads repeatedly against her clitoris and labia, and gripped onto the shower door, whispering Chuck’s name into the steamy cubicle. She wondered how much better this would feel with his large, slightly calloused hands, wondered at how well he could touch her, and how his mouth would feel moving down her body. Wanting to get off quicker, she opened her eyes and hoiked the shower head down, playing with the head settings until the water stream became one pulsing jet and she crouched down, slid into a semi-seated position with her legs spread as wide as she could in the glass box, and ignored the chill of the cold tile against her back as she held the hose steady against herself. The intensity was what she needed – eyes squeezed shut again, mind firmly locked into the fantasy that it was Chuck’s tongue instead, or that he was holding the hose and watching her, and she chanted his name as she came, legs shaking.

*

It took Evie a few days to look at Chuck straight after that day and those evening fantasies; she found herself feeling paranoid he could read her mind. Almost as if he was aware she was feeling particularly embarrassed and sensitive, he didn’t even mention their fight or their score. He had still been turning up wherever she worked; joining her and Tendo as they worked through the records and acting almost as a bodyguard whenever she left to see the two Drs with his father or Pentecost. They walked every morning still; ate together most days and one evening – before the next attack the next day – she had been talking to him about educational theory, he wasn’t exactly sure how they got onto the topic still – he had asked her how she got her job with the PPDC, and followed him right back to his dorm. He had been intending to take Max for a walk once he grabbed his lead, but she followed him into his room without necessarily noticing and instead he turned back to her at in his doorway and interrupted her to say, “You want a drink?”

She stopped mid-sentence, seeming to realising where she was and grinned, a bit embarrassed, “Sorry – I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow at her, looking amused, “Drink or walk?” he shrugged, looking more casual than she felt, which eased her awkwardness.

She looked at Max, who had curled himself very happily onto his bed in the corner, and smiled at Chuck, “A drink would be great.”

That night, they were up late, and Chuck told her about his mother. About how his father had been fighting the kaiju with his uncle; how by the time they had killed the kaiju, his mother’s work building had already been destroyed. He told her about he had enlisted immediately in the kaiju programme at its first appearance a year prior, but that the Marshall had pulled some strings to get him in out of his air force contract quicker, not long after his mother’s death. Evie, in turn, told him about her life; her family back in the UK – who were safer and had begged her to come home when the pacific breach opened – she told him about why she took the offer to join the programme and what she might do if – ‘When!’ Chuck had interjected confidently - they won. When Chuck’s alarm clock flashed 1am, Evie stretched from her position in his armchair and smiled at Chuck as Max wormed his way onto his lap on his bed. “I think it’s my bedtime.” She said, a touch regretfully, pushing herself up and laughing when Max jumped down from Chuck’s lap to wind around her legs almost like a cat. She crouched down to stroke him, “You’re such a gorgeous good boy.”

Chuck chuckled gruffly, “Takes after me.”

She laughed again and stood up, “Does your cockiness know no bounds?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Not cocky if it’s true.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes, turning to his door, “It actually still is. You can know you’re something without showing off about it – it’s called humility.”

He moved in closer, snaking an arm around her shoulders to undo the door behind her and smirked, “Boring.”

Evie laughed again and shook her head at him in faux-dismay, “Well I suppose you’re certainly not that. Goodnight Chuck.” She slid out the door and shot him a soft smile, “See you in the morning.”

He leaned against the doorway with his slow, sure smirk, “Reckon you will.” He didn’t shut his door until he saw her turn into her own doorway a few metres down the hall and unlock it; keeping his eyes on her and feeling a sharp thrill when she turned back to look at him before disappearing into her room.

*

The next day at 15.13pm the siren alarmed – a kaiju had breached. And worst, Evie discovered when she hurtled herself into the Loccent, it was a double event. Gottlieb’s work had predicted such an event and it gave them all a sense of panic, more than before, about what this meant. Pentecost sent out Alpha and Typhoon immediately, with Gipsy Danger released but held back to protect the bay. Chuck and Herc hated being the remaining pilots, even though they knew the reasoning.

The two kaiju’s released were both Category 4’s – but Evie quickly relayed the height and weight dimensions into the comms – these were bigger and heavier than ever seen before. She shared a concerned glance with Chuck over her shoulder: his face serious and focussed as ever when it came to the missions, before turning back to add sharply. “Arrowhead shows signs of EMP carrying – look to the spinal column for a bulging sack and dismantle asap.”

“Copy that Loccent.” Alpha and Typhoon seemed to chime back at once, before they moved into battle sequences – Typhoon crouching low in the water and Alpha rimrod straight.

The familiar sound of kaiju screams; the cracking and screeching of jaeger metal, the crackling back and forth of the comms soon overcame them all – it became obvious that these two larger kaiju’s were becoming too much; Typhoon had lost an arm and their third pilot Yoon-Sim was half connected to the drift and useless in his pain. Pentecost ordered Gipsy in and readied the Striker team – the Hansen’s left the Loccent with little more than a nod at the Marshall each, but Evie’s eyes followed Chuck out of the room, her level of worry and fear increasing, and he shot her a quick wink as he spun out of the room.

Then the screams of the Typhoon team and Alpha’s panicked yells flooded the room.

*

She couldn’t have recalled at what exact point Gipsy and Alpha lost control of the fight; whether it was when Alpha nearly missiled Gipsy, or when Gipsy’s right leg was nearly snapped in half by the bite of Arrowhead, or even before that – the moment they all realised Typhoon was permanently down from Leatherback’s pummelling and stamping. All she clearly remembered was Striker rushing in, Chuck and Herc both shouting messages of support to the other teams, and feeling an increasing sense of panic when Gipsy and Alpha lost their combined grip on Arrowhead and it launched itself after Striker’s back as they chased Leatherback from the harbour. She remembers being frozen, useless in her terror, as she hears Chuck’s bellows of pain as Arrowhead’s sharp jaw pierced the left back of Striker before Alpha could reach it. She remembers calling his name after a moment, not even caring how quickly she grabbed the comms and shouted it again just so he can hear her, and feeling such relief when he shouted back, “Get this bastard off us – we need to reach the shore!” to the other jaeger teams, that she nearly slumps. The rest of that battle is a horrifying blur. It shows her on the scans how hurt Chuck is, Yancy too and the lack of Typhoon on the scans is numbing - it seems to take hours for them to bring down the kaijus and be brought into repairs.

Evie can feel her hands shaking as she stands with the Marshall and Mako in the elevator to the Shatterdome; the silence is deafening between them; their shared pain and relief a mess of emotions. She remembers the last time she saw Chuck after a mission; remembers pressing her forehead to him in a show of emotion that she hadn’t really known she felt. Now his cries of pain would haunt her, now the thought that he might not come back is an agony she cannot bear. She doesn’t even wait for the Marshall to leave the elevator before she barges herself out, only freezing in the bay when she sees the first Conn-Pod elevators come down and knows it’s the Hansen’s. Mako and Pentecost pause at her side and observe the elevators one by one and Evie doesn’t even care to wait for anyone else as Striker’s Conn-Pod lift hits the bay floor and she feels herself jogging over, reaching them just as the doors open. Herc is holding Chuck against him, his son unsteady on his feet, both their faces a touch battered and he sees Evie first, almost inadvertently nudging Chuck at the sight. Chuck’s head lifts up properly and he spots her there, face panicked and her eyes wide and fixed on him. Her waiting for him is like a homecoming and he manages a pained grin as she steps forward and takes hold of his face softly, tenderly and briefly, before swooping herself under his other arm and managing a soft, joking, “You weigh a ton.”

Herc lets out a gruff chuckle as Chuck manages a slightly hoarse quip, “It’s all muscle.”

Evie laughs, tears pricking her eyes and he turns his head down and she reaches up to press her forehead into his chin, uncaring of who sees, or what anyone thinks this means, and practically nuzzles him. She barely registers the arrivals of the other pilots at first, as they haul Chuck out of the elevator, and only starts to look around when the medics appear and pull Chuck from her and Herc and get him onto a stretcher, and she sees Raleigh help his brother onto another, Mako hovering – eyes fixed on Raleigh. Both the Russians are still standing, but bloodied, and they too are ushered away, with the Marshall barking orders for the Comms team and engineers to get back to work. Evie follows the medics with her eyes until Herc claps her softly on the shoulder and quietly suggests “Give it a while then head on down there.”

There is something knowing in his eyes when she turns to look at him; as if there is something he wants to tell her; a real fondness to his gaze, so she can only nod and ask him gently, “Are you alright?”

*

When they have debriefed with the remaining pilots and had the lead engineers run updates on the repairs, Evie slips away from the meeting – exchanging a pointed glance with Herc – and heads down to the medical bay. She’s not sure if Chuck will still be there, knowing he likes to get ‘fixed up and out’ as he has said in the past, but is relieved when she hears his Aussie growl, “Come on now, I’m good,” from one of the bays on the left of the entrance. She waves at Charles, one of their Hong Kong surgeons who is flown over whenever possible after a kaiju attack to check the pilots over. It is his first time back in a month but they have built a friendship over emails in the past, so he excuses himself from the nurse he is talking to and bounces over to her. He is a small man, compact and fuelled by warmth and joy, and Evie adores him. She hugs him immediately and he grins widely when they pull away, “Evie! How are you?”

“Good thanks Charles; how’s Chuck? And Yancy?” She wants to see Chuck first, is driven to it, but she is concerned about Yancy too – knowing that his leg pain must have been debilitating from the drift even if there is no real injury.

“Both ok – Yancy is just resting; the neural load is the cause of his pain, so I’m sending him to an ice bath shortly after a v-shot.” Charles is so efficient, which is the only reason the Marshall sees him as the lead when he comes in – otherwise his effusive, puppy-like nature would be too much to bear. He glances over to Chuck’s bay, “Chuck’ll be alright, but he is injured – obviously the neural load on his spine was severe, as it always is on those nerve endings, but some of the shrapnel embedded into his shoulder too. We’ve taken it out and stitched up the entry points so he’ll be alright.” He grinned conspiratorially, “But he wasn’t easy about it – wanted up and out before we could get his shots in.”

Evie smiled back at him warmly, relieved that neither of their injuries were too problematic, “Can I go see him?”

Charles’ eyebrows raise slightly but he says nothing other than, “Sure.” He points her to the bay where Chuck’s voice had come from and watches her head over, curious, and he recalled the tone of her emails and realises Chuck’s name had appeared more fondly in the last few. He waited for a moment, heard her soft, teasing “You causing trouble down here?” as she entered the room and he smiled, before heading back to send Yancy to the ice bath.

The other Dr, Chuck’s assistant Henry Li, exits the bay with a stern, “Don’t get those stitches wet for the next 24 hours,” to Chuck and a smile to Evie, and Chuck gives her a wolfish grin, keeping his voice – thankfully – low, “Sponge baths then?”

Evie shrugs with a smile, “I’m sure your Dad will be happy to do that for you. Max would love to join in as well.”

Chuck grimaces and shuffles on the bed, twisting to try and look at his shoulder and Evie steps forward in exasperation with her hands out, “Hey, quit it. The point of stitches is to not rip them open.” She lightly pokes at his bare chest, unable to hold her hands back from touching him at least a bit. His reflexes are so fast that he grabs at her hand with a playful smirk. “You worrying about me?”

He keeps a light hold of her hand as he gazes up at her and she ducks her head for a moment, not pulling her hand away and trying not to admire his physique again, before she forces herself to say, calmly, “It is part of my job.” It comes out a touch too-cool, less teasing than she means, and he drops her hand and says, matter-of-factly, “Checked on Yaaaancy?” He drawls out the vowels, a sure sign he’s annoyed, and Evie frowns but answers.

“Not yet, apparently he’s having an ice bath. Just neural pain in the leg they lost.”

Chuck doesn’t seem interested, he’s not looking at her anymore, but looking about her, finally spotting his shirt and standing up to grab it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Evie steps back to give him some room, eyes scanning him over quickly, worrying over the other scrapes she sees, “You can’t just go.”

“I’m fine,” he growls, tugging his shirt over his head and stepping away when she tries to help and his voice is cold with his next remark, “Check on Yancy why don’t you? Just do the rest of your job.”

Evie flinches away from him, hurt and humiliated, wondering at the mood change – had she hurt him with her retort; did he not want her there – had she over-estimated their friendship? “Chuck,” she starts to speak, tries not to let her voice shake, but he turns his back on her to fiddle with his dog tags on the bedside. “You shouldn’t leave till they tell you,” she finishes softly before leaving the room, lips pursed crossly and leaving the med bay with a heavy heart, not noticing Herc chatting to Charles by the med cabinet.

*

“Chuck,” his father’s voice interrupts his thoughts, as he enters the room. “Alright?”

Chuck tugs the dog tags over his head and turns around, “Fine,” he says gruffly, “ready to go.”

Herc eyes him warily – his normal expression with his son – and asks, eyebrow raised, “See Evie?” He has gathered their interaction didn’t go well – saw Evie’s disheartened face as she left the bay and he studies Chuck’s anger now, “She wanted to come down right away.” He works hard to keep his voice impassive and non-judgemental.

Chuck pulls himself to his full height, as if readying for a fight, and scowls, “It’s her job, right.” He uses her line now, dismissing whatever his father might be getting at, angered already at the careful way his father used her name, especially knowing his father sees her in Chuck’s drift.

Herc’s bristles, as he always does when Chuck seems to challenge him, but forces himself to stay calm, “She was worried about you.” He waits a moment, not letting Chuck find place for argument and says boldly, even whilst worrying this is too far – they never speak of the drift, “I know what she means to you.”

Chuck’s face twists, furious and embarrassed at his father’s daring, and snaps, “Stay the hell out of it, old man.” He barges past him, ignores Charles’ call to him and stomps out of the medical bay. It resonates within him - ‘what she means to you’ - and he feels betrayed and humiliated; as if Herc had said it in front of Evie even, making him vulnerable and unable to ignore it. He knows she appears in his drift; he knows she has been there since he met her, floating in his head and through his whole damn body like some part of his being calls to her. He is in the elevator, leaning back against the back wall, wincing at the pain in his shoulder and pushes himself back off – catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrored panel near the buttons – when he recalls asking her what she believes in during one of their morning walks, when their conversation had drifted to the breach – to the different beliefs of kaiju groupies and world religions now that kaijus existed.

_“Not God.” She had said honestly and wearily, but she had glanced up at him and said thoughtfully, “But – a metaphysics, an energy. I mean, you think of the big bang; the very creation of all existence from the collision of matter and atoms and stardust and,” she hesitated as they stopped, waiting for Max to stop sniffing at one of the kitchen doorways and follow them, and he had found himself looking down at her and earnestly wondering where she was going with this, feeling deeply invested in her answer. “Everything in the universe that we know is connected – we’re all made from essentially the same matter; and I believe there is a magnetic energy in that; that you can invest energy into the universe and call it ‘faith’ or ‘laws of attraction’ but that really it’s just a life system that functions within us all.” She paused again and shot him a shy glance, as if conscious he might tease her, “And the breach shows us that energy exists here and in other universes – that gateways and these forces can be manipulated and broken and reshaped. I always assumed there was life out there – parallel universes and aliens – because I never thought the universe was anything other than this glorious, chaotic mess of energy. Do you know what I mean?” _

_He had nodded dumbly at her; felt a little out of his depth if he was honest – though he agreed with her theory, and then managed to ask, with a touch of bemusement, “So no heaven, no hell, no soulmates and no God?”_

_She shrugged, “I don’t know – heaven and hell, and God and the devil, they are all such binary concepts – it seems too ordered, obvious even. But soulmates,” she smiled, almost embarrassed, and added, “Don’t you dare laugh.” Her index finger came up to a point near his chest – as it often did when she was telling him off or warning him of something, playful or otherwise._

_He had felt his face split into a grin and shrugged, no verbal answer given as he waited intently – her romantic beliefs were a mystery to him, but one he wanted to hear. She pursed her lips but continued, eyes sparkling, “I read somewhere once that soulmates are like finding someone who is made of the exact same pieces of stardust as you and that it’s an attraction, like a magnet, that seems built into your very being; like you can’t really exist without meeting them.” She smiled widely up at him and his heart had stopped for a moment, like some bloody rom-com script instruction, and said, “I think that works.”_

He realises that it is exactly how he feels about her – that since the moment he saw her there has been something magnetic, inevitable, about their meeting, and that the scariest part of it all – now his father had said his secret out loud – was that perhaps she didn’t feel the same. He glimpses at himself again in the mirror and scowls, or maybe she did and he was just screwing it up.

*

Later that night, after everyone is quiet at dinner, the loss of the Typhoon team hanging over the base, the worry of the day’s events, of when they would need to hit the breach and of if they even could, they all return quickly to their rooms after eating. Evie barely speaks at dinner, sitting next to Charles – who is staying late into the evening for a change – and talking quietly mostly to him. Chuck knows he is staring at her, knows his father is watching him intently, knows she is avoiding his gaze. He decides, as she wishes everyone a soft goodnight, that he has to speak to her. That he owes her an apology, at least.

He returns to his room first, strokes Max, contemplates what to say, and waits until he thinks that everyone else might have dispersed and that she might have relaxed – he knows she likes to read in the evenings, and even walk the base again on occasion. He gives himself an hour before he cannot wait any longer and he finds himself knocking sharply at her door.

She takes a moment to answer and he wonders if she is looking through the peephole and contemplating not opening the door, but then it starts to click and slide open, and she is pressed into the gap, looking cross and tense already. She doesn’t say anything at first, and he is aware he is just _staring_ at her and it isn’t what he planned at all but he suddenly hears himself say, “I see you in the drift.”

She seems to soften completely, her grip on the edge of the door slides down and she steps back, opening her door and letting him in. He shuts the door behind him, and she is standing only a few steps away when he turns back, watching him with a careful look. He wants to say more, to get out the apology he has practiced, but she speaks first.

“If it’s just me shouting at you, I’m not sure that counts.” She has an eyebrow raised archly, but her eyes are glittering and her pretty mouth is quirked up. A hand comes up to slide across her collarbone and rest at the thin necklace around her neck – a habit he has noticed she does when she is emotional.

He grins, a touch predatorily – making her breath catch in her throat – and he steps forward, “There’s a few other moments in there.” He eyes her suggestively and she eyes him back in a similarly flirtatious manner and his confidence soars, and he steps closer again, pausing a foot away and reaching out to slide his hand under her chin and to her nape, his thumb sliding back and forth over her cheek gently. He doesn’t say anything; his confidence in their equal attraction balanced out by the vulnerability of the moment; of how she could still turn him away and end it all before it starts. He watches her closely and she blinks a few times but drops her hand from her necklace and reaches for him – gripping his t shirt and pulling him to her as she steps forward. She tilts her head back to look up at him, his hand sliding down to her collarbone and he lifts his other hand to hold her face softly. He wants to kiss her with every fibre of his being and when her other hand comes up to his waist, slides slowly up his body to rest against his heartbeat, he is sure she can feel it pummelling against her palm and so he leans down, pulls her gently up and presses his lips to hers softly. He wants to consume her; to kiss her until there is nothing else left in the universe around them – but he doesn’t want to overwhelm her or to frighten her off.

But then she sighs into her mouth and presses herself forward, grips at the collar of his t-shirt, and he loses any sense of fear, uncertainty and most of his control, and drops a hand from her face to grip at her waist and pull her up and into his body as if he could melt her into him. He kisses her fiercely; intense and wanting and it leaves Evie nearly panting against him minutes later. Their faces stay pressed together; mouths just brushing the sides of each other’s, until Chuck ducks his head and presses an open mouthed kiss against the pulse at her neck, his hand at her waist sliding down to cup at her bottom briefly before coming up to her lower back, and she pushes her body against his again and whispers his name shakily. He feels her full breasts press against his ribs; her fingers dig slightly into his hip and shoulder, and he knows, with a touch of embarrassment, that he is already hard and that she must be able to feel his erection. He kisses her neck again, trailing his mouth along her skin with soft pressure back up to her lips as she turns back to him.

This time she is kissing him fiercely, her tongue sliding into his mouth, her hand at his hip slides under his shirt and she trails her fingernails across his taut abs and makes him growl with pleasure into her mouth and he has to pull his mouth from her, bend down and pick her up, pressing his mouth back to hers as quick as he can and nearly jutting into her when she wraps her legs tight around his waist, pulls her hand from out of his shirt and wraps both around the back of his neck. She pulls her head away from his and is, for the first time ever - he nearly laughs, at his eye level. Her eyes are dark and slightly hooded, her lips parted and so beautiful, and he thinks he will love her for the rest of his life. The thought is slightly alarming in its intensity, until she smiles warmly, and he smiles back – a wide smile that makes her heart stop and she laughs, a cute giggle that makes him burrow his head into her neck, and wrap his arms around her back tightly and just hold her. Her fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head and one hand scratches gently and she presses her lips to the tops of his head. They stay embraced, her legs still around his waist, his face buried in her neck and breathing her in, for a few minutes, before she wriggles a bit, and he silently bends down to let her untangle herself from him. He takes hold of her hand and leaves his other on her hip.

“Reckon we could make this work…” his voice is low and wanting, and it sounds like both a question and a statement and Evie thinks it encapsulates him perfectly: his cockiness and confidence, hidden vulnerability, his casual sense of humour and how he always knows what he wants. The fact that what he wants is her – as she had been secretly hoping for longer than she would care admit – makes her smile up at him, place her free hand against his chest again and say, “I reckon so too,” trying to emulate his Aussie accent.

His eyebrows shoot up at her attempt and to try and cover the absurd delight he feels at her answer, but his lips quirk into a pleased smirk as she laughs at herself and he brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it, with as much as romance in him that he can show her with just this simple gesture. She bites her lip and grips his t-shirt hard in her hand again and pushes onto her tiptoes to kiss the edge of his mouth teasingly. He turns his head to capture her mouth in his just as a bang echoes at her door. He groans and says, “Do you have to answer that?”

She presses a quick kiss to his mouth, pulls away and says, “You know I do.” She brushes herself down, looking a little flustered, and he winks when she looks up at him, making her grin before she turns to her door. Chuck has to keep his back turned, his body still not fully under his control, but he angles himself against the kitchen unit so he can see who is at the door and still look a little casual.

“Hi Mako,” she is clearly surprised to see her friend there, and there is a pause before she quietly, and so gently, asks, “Everything ok?”

Mako sees him suddenly behind Evie and looks a bit surprised, and definitely red-eyed, and she struggles to hide her evident upset for a moment, before she whispers wobbly, “I am sorry to interrupt.”

Evie and Chuck both frown at that and as Mako turns to leave, Evie shoots Chuck a quick, apologetic glance before she darts down her doorstep, “Mako wait – it’s ok. Come in.” She ushers her friend forward and turns back to Chuck with a regretful but pleading face.

Chuck nods straightaway, understanding Evie’s compassion for her friend must trump their desire. Besides, he manages to think to himself even as the disappointment sinks in, he doesn’t want to rush things. As Mako enters the room, Chuck squeezes an arm around Evie’s waist and slides out of her room and she runs a hand over his bicep with a teasing squeeze, and smiles thankfully, before leaning out of the door, pulling it closer shut behind her so Mako cannot see, and whispers, “Sorry,” before she takes a step down closer to him and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. It feels like a brilliant promise to Chuck.

*********************************************************************************

Days later, they are stood inside the Loccent, watching as Mako and Raleigh prepare for their first drift – a practice run. Yancy’s leg injury – being only neural initially – became real when he slipped getting out of the ice tub and somehow shattered his patella. It is a strange stroke of fate and he and his brother are both devastated. Mako’s tears, the night Chuck first kissed Evie, had not been in sympathy but in frustration – the Marshall would not allow her to be Raleigh’s potential co-pilot. It had taken three days of meetings; arguments and score analysis – with Herc, Evie, Tendo, Mako and Raleigh – to finally convince him.

Chuck had his doubts. Although he would never had told either of them, mostly because he disliked Yancy more, he had always thought Yancy the better pilot – the more precise, efficient of the two. Raleigh was impulsive and – though Chuck knew it hypocritical to think – somewhat arrogant. Mako worried him more though – she had clear PTSD and memory triggers that he did not believe would cope in the drift. He did not like the idea that these two would be his second when it came to hit the breach and he had been the only person to voice it. It had put a touch of strain on his new relationship with Evie, who wanted to support her friend.

The strain did little more than create a few stubborn exchanges between them though; both were straight-talking enough to not be passive-aggressive or sulky, and Evie was understanding of his worries. At the end of the day she told him, “I want you to be safe more than anything.” They stood, pressed arm to arm – as subtle as they could be with their feelings for now – as Tendo monitored and readied the drift load.

Everybody watched with bated breath as they connected and eventually stabilised. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief, until Gottlieb burst into the room, shouting something about a kaiju drift and Geiszler wasn’t ok…

The Marshall shot a harried glance at him and he faltered in his steps; but the panic on his face was enough and Evie said, “I’ll go,” knowing the Marshall didn’t want to miss this: miss Mako’s first test. He gave her a grateful nod, and she felt Chuck’s hand graze her lower back lightly as she turned to leave. “It’s ok,” she mouthed at him, knowing he too needed to see this go well for his own state of mind. He nodded but still watched her leave.

*

When Evie had reported to the Marshall what Newt’s findings were, and what he had done, it was after she had heard about what had happened with Mako and Raleigh. The Marshall had looked strained already; deep concern in his eyes that had only worsened as she relayed the information. It hadn’t taken long for him to dismiss her – asking her only to be ready for a meeting in the morning.

She hadn’t even dared ask him if Mako, or Raleigh, were ok, and instead went straight to Mako’s room. Mako answered the door with wet eyes and Evie swept her in for a hug straightaway.

“I’m so sorry Mako,” she whispered as she let her go, but Mako simply shook her head sadly and let Evie into her room. Raleigh was there already and Evie turned a sad face to him.

“Are you two alright?”

Raleigh looked exhausted and there was a cut and bruise blossoming against his face.

“What happened?” She hadn’t realised either of them had been physically hurt.

Raleigh’s face twisted, “Chuck happened.”

“He hit you?” Evie asked, horrified and confused all at once – she knew Chuck would be furious about it all, but to fight Raleigh over it?

“To be fair,” Raleigh started, sounding somehow both cross and contrite, “I hit him first.”

Evie’s eyebrows shot up – so they had fought. Her stomach turned, hoping Chuck was alright, and she wanted to leave right now to check, but she couldn’t – not yet. “What happened?”

“He was an asshole – as usual. I lost my temper.”

It didn’t need more explanation than that, Evie thought. Raleigh’s and Chuck’s dynamic was pretty much all work – no social connection, and she knew – better than most – that Chuck’s barbed words could be very provocative.

She wanted to ask Raleigh more, but decided against it, so she turned back to Mako and asked, “Are you ok?” She knew Mako couldn’t possibly be, so she moved in closer to her friend and whispered, “It’s not your fault.”

“You didn’t see it,” Mako whispered back, voice shaking, “I could have killed everyone.”

Evie knew that and it terrified her – it was the biggest part of the story after all – but she tried to stay calm for Mako, “But you didn’t.”

“Because they pulled the plug – not because I stopped.”

That Evie knew too – she knew it was Chuck and Tendo and Herc that had technically saved the day. And she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Mako turned away and said, “I would like to be alone please.”

Evie nodded, touched Mako’s arm briefly and said, “It’s ok Mako. Knock later if you want.” She wanted to be sympathetic and available to her friend, but if she was really honest, she most wanted to see Chuck, to see if he was ok. If she was more honest, she would have admitted she was also a little angry with Mako and Raleigh for failing so terribly.

She left Mako without another word, not even certain Raleigh would leave, and headed straight around the corner to Chuck’s dorm. He opened the door after a few knocks; a bad sign, and she gasped when she saw him: his face had two cuts – one across his eyebrow and one on his cheek – that he had evidently and clumsily steri-stripped himself and he was hunched over slightly, wincing.

“Are you ok?” she heard herself say, as he let her in and turned to her, “I heard what happened.”

“Here to give me a lecture?” He scowled, but it did little to cover up his evident pain.

Her eyebrows shot up, but she ignored the provocation, “I wanted to see if you were alright.” She took a step closer to him and lightly held his neck in her hands to examine his face, “Have you been to the med bay?”

“I’ll be fine,” his answer was gruff, his pride and body both hurting, and he wanted to seem fine. He had been through worse after all and he hated the thought that she knew he had lost a fight to Raleigh.

Evie didn’t look convinced, “Why are you hunched over? What’s happened to your arm?” she brushed her hand lightly over the shoulder he was hunching.

“Hit a pipe.”

“A pipe?!” Evie cried, recoiling back in surprise, “What the hell kind of fight was this? I thought you’d just thrown a few punches not WWE wrestled!” She looked concerned and upset and she reached for him, “Let me see.”

Part of him wanted to hide his pain from her; stay cool and infallible, but her eyes were so wide with care and she leant up to press a soft kiss to his mouth and said, “Please Chuck,” so sweetly that he pulled back and pulled his t-shirt slowly off. He turned around and heard her gasp – he knew there must be bruises blossoming there already; covering the marks he already had from the last kaiju battle.

“I’m going to kill him,” she hissed angrily, before wrapping her arms around his bare waist and pressing light kisses across his back. “We need to go the med bay. You might have cracked something here.”

Her mixture of anger, protectiveness and concern softened him; it was exactly what he needed from her and he turned slowly in her arms and took her face in his hands, “I’ve had worse,” he half-grinned, half-grimaced, and leant down to kiss her longingly. They hadn’t much of a chance to spend time alone together with all the preparations for Mako’s and Raleigh’s drift, and the amount of time Mako had needed from Evie as well. She kissed him back with the same desire; their bodies moving in closer as their mouths slid over one another’s, tongue grazing and both feeling the same electric heat. Evie pulled back first and said shakily, “I still think you should go to the med bay,” she kissed him quickly before he could reply and then added, deliberately suggestively, “It’ll make me feel better knowing your body isn’t hindered by anything.”

His lips quirked against her cheek, “Tease.”

She grinned and pulled away from him, keeping her hands loose on his hips, “Henry will do a quick check up…” she ducked her head, feeling both daring and shy, sexy and nervous, “then maybe I could?”

His eyes seemed to darken immediately and his grip tightened on her waist. “Deal.”

*

Except, she couldn’t check him over. He had severely bruised his shoulder and back and Henry worked some painful sports massage on him then gave him some powerful painkillers; to the extent that he nearly struggled to walk unaided to his dorm. Evie watched him in and checked he at least got onto his bed and would have laughed, had it not been still sexy and he so oddly vulnerable, when he pulled her half onto his lap, ground himself into her and said, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” before kissing her deeply and languidly and for so long that Evie had to pull herself away, breathless and feeling totally swept off her feet. He grinned up at her, pleased with himself, and she really wants to kiss him again, to climb over his body and stay with him, but she knows the drugs will make him sleepy and sloppy ‘within the hour’. So, instead she says quietly, “You need to rest Chuck.” She kisses his cheek, extracts herself from his grip, and says, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He knows she is right; can feel the drugs kicking in their dosages of relaxation and relief, but he feels the loss anyway.

He realises, as she slips quietly out of the door, that he is yet to really woo her – yet to court her – and he slips into sleep, still thinking of how to show her how much he cares.

*

When Evie hears the full tale of what he had said to Mako and Raleigh from Herc the next morning – Chuck had not appeared for their morning walk or breakfast – she stomps to his room, feeling indignant and worried all at once. He opens the door, looking half-asleep and weary, but lets her in. He nearly regrets it when she launches into a furious monologue about what he had said to Mako and Raleigh; about how sexist it was and how _dare_ he, and to think that she had – she pauses midway through, noting he is looking at her with increasing upset of his own. She stops and breathes, and is about to speak again, when he rubs a hand over his face and hair, making it stand up messily and says, “I know, alright. I know.”

Evie stares at him in surprise at his so-quick acquiescence, but says archly, “You owe them an apology – Mako especially.”

He shuffles into his kitchen and fiddles with his coffee pot, “Yeah, yeah, I will.” He sounds exhausted and she suddenly remembers he must still be in a lot of pain. She also remembers the hash browns and sausages she had wrapped in a napkin and stuffed in her pockets for him; thankful that Max was with Herc and not barking and begging around her.

She follows him into the kitchen, and he turns to her briefly and asks hesitantly, “Coffee?”

She smiles, presses forward into the room and reveals her stash, “I brought you breakfast.”

He looks down at the pile she had accumulated for him and feels a swell of his feelings for her, and he can’t keep the softness from his face as he looks back at her and grins, “Thanks darling.” He realises what he has called her and perhaps how soon it is to start with pet names, but doesn’t have time to think about it or take it back even – she has pressed up and kissed him, her lips moving sensually across his, her hands – food free now – sliding up his chest slowly. Just as his hands come to her hips, she pulls back and softly says, “You need to eat. And shower. I’ve got a meeting with the Marshall.”

She is out of his grasp so fast – a sure sign he is in recovery if his reflexes are too slow to catch her - that he just stares at her dumbly.

She smiles sweetly, “I’ll see you later.”

*

They finally get an evening to themselves; no meetings; no worried Mako; no visits to the med bay for his back, nearly a week later. The week has been hard, not just because Chuck and Evie are both struggling with their still relatively unsaid feelings and the lack of time to be together to explore it, but also because Newt’s drift has revealed a frightening truth to the kaiju’s purpose – their morbid origins – and that Gottlieb’s theories are accurate. The breaches will keep growing; kaiju multiplying. They may need to go to the breach before they thought, to stop it from going too far.

Chuck’s mind has wavered between those two constants – Evie and the war – and he knows that he may be running out of time. He might not make it back from the breach; it is a thought that terrifies him, because now he really isn’t ready to die. Before, of course, he had never _wanted_ to. But this was different – thinking that this is all the time he has left with Evie is not enough. And if its not enough; then he knows he has to make it all count. Gottlieb has been given the weekend to work with Geiszler on his algorithm and on another kaiju drift. Chuck figures that gives him the weekend, at least, to be with Evie.

He had asked the Marshall special permission to give Tendo – on his visit back to the harbour for parts – a request. He wants to do something special for her and right now, a takeaway from a posh restaurant, fresh flowers from the market, and his hand-soldered present, would have to be enough. He know she is not expecting anything – knows that when he had told her he wanted to ‘date’ her this Friday that she thinks they will have dinner as usual, perhaps just together on another table, and go for a walk. He hopes she is pleasantly surprised.

Evie, for her part, spends much of the week feeling constantly petrified that at any minute Chuck will go back out there and not return. She has to talk herself out of turning up at his room every night, well after the late meetings or trainings they were doing, and of launching herself at him every time he winks at her across the room, or brushes against her when they are near. Her heart will break, she knows, if he doesn’t come back. She can admit she is practically in love with him; however that happened and grew so suddenly.

When she has showered and primped and preened herself as much as she could with her limited toiletries and make-up she has on the base, she readies herself to see him. Her heart is fluttering, she is already nearly shaky with desire and excitement, and when he knocks at her door – to ‘collect’ her for dinner, she opens it so fast she almost trips out. He grins at the sight of her – she has put on her nicest clothes – smart, skinny-fit black trousers and a white silk blouse – and her hair is waved over one shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he manages to say, suddenly feeling very nervous.

She smiles widely at him; he is wearing his shearer jacket – which he knows she loves on him, because she had accidentally told him on one of their first early walks in Hong Kong – over a plain black t-shirt and the smartest jeans he owns. She steps down from the steps, not as small as usual, and he notices she even has heels on as she replies, “So do you.”

He can’t keep from kissing her for much longer, even though they are technically in public, so he takes hold of her waist and kisses her on the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t mind at all; turning her head slightly to brush her lips tantalisingly over his, before stepping away. She still thinks they are just going to dinner together, but he takes her hand and leads her back to his room. Evie wearily wonders if his plans for a date are just sex – and to be honest, she’d be a bit worried about what that meant he felt for her really – but she follows him without saying anything, only becoming genuinely curious and less nervous when he tells her to close her eyes at his door.

She laughs, “Oh lord,” but does as he asks, hearing him open the door, and letting him help her step up blindly into his room. She keeps her eye shut as he turns away to close the door and feels him press against her side, kiss her neck softly and is surprised when he sounds nervous as he whispers, “Open them.”

He has filled his room with flowers and candles, and even set a blanket on the floor with wine and take-out. He has created her a restaurant in his room – a romantic first date of perfection. She is speechless; not expecting Chuck to be so thoughtful in this way and she stares, amazed, her heart welling in her chest and, for a moment, she thinks she might cry. Instead, she turns her face to Chuck and wraps her arms tight about his neck, swinging her body into his and whispers, “It’s perfect. I love it.”

He knows she means it; he can hear it in the pleased surprise in her voice, the glimpse he caught of her glittering, glassy eyes, and how she has melted into him. He holds her tight, pressing his face into her neck and breathing in her typical vanilla smell. They stay embraced for minutes, before Evie pulls back and stares at him in wonder, “How did you manage this?”

Chuck smirks smugly, “I have my ways.” He eyes her over, noticing that in this dim candle and lamplight her skin seems to shimmer. He wonders if her whole body does, but snaps that thought from his head. He wants her so badly; but he does not want to rush her. This night, he made himself promise, was about romance – wooing her. That was what she deserved.

She smiles slowly, eyes turning mischievous, and kisses the side of his mouth teasingly, “Good work.” She kisses the other side of his mouth and he dares not move, liking her game, “I am very,” a kiss just under his chin, “very,” another kiss, this one sliding a touch across his neck, “impressed.” This time she meets his mouth and kisses him with such intent that he feels himself get hard and excited. He pulls away, and manages to get out, “Reckon I did alright then.”

His voice is low and gravelly and his accent – which Evie has always loved – sounds even more seductive than usual. He leads her over to the blanket and pulls out a fake seat as she lowers herself to the ground.

She laughs at his attempts and eyes the food and wine and flowers – he must have had this all flown in from the bay somehow. She is so touched at the effort. This, she thinks, is how he feels about her, and it makes her heart ache even more.

That evening, they share stories of their childhood – Evie mostly talking and probing out answers from Chuck with quick questions and careful compassion – and their ‘previous’ lives. They found that their fairly new-found friendship, and their easy physicality since their first kiss, was the obvious foundation for something deeper: almost instinctual. They were magnetic – his machoism and action-oriented personality was mellowed with her calm and warmth; her diplomacy and detail-oriented focus was made more real and challenged by his frankness. He was fire and air, whilst she was earth and water. She was so open with her thoughts and beliefs and managed to pull things out of him that he would never normally share – his defences and ego lessened. He was explicit and direct; bold in ways that made her feel alive. They were perfectly matched.

The thought crossed both their minds that their arguments, their tension, in their first meetings and early dynamics were like a spark – a way to catch their attention and make sure they couldn’t dismiss what they felt; what they could have. Chuck found himself wanting more with every minute; in ways that he had not felt before: he had desired women and cared for some before, but this was new. His desire for her was consuming and still somehow permanent – he knew he wanted to touch, kiss and please and _claim_ her and would not want to ever give that up. Evie found herself nearly-shaking under the intensity of his gaze; desperate for him to make the first move; her body flooded with desire. She felt she could be herself with him in any way; in all her flaws and desires and parts.

But they both held back, until they had tidied up dinner and collected Max from Herc for a short walk. It wasn’t until they had handed Max back to Herc – who eyed them both with amusement – that Chuck started walking her to her dorm.

Evie knew he was trying to be a gentleman, that this was her chance to kiss him goodnight and let this slowly unravel between them for however long. But it wasn’t what she wanted and she wasn’t sure they had the luxury of time, so before they reached her door, not long past his, she stopped in the middle of the hallway and made herself look at him, his eyes so dark and still so blue and locked curiously on hers, and bravely said, “Chuck, this was such a lovely night. But,” she ducked her head, needing a moment to get this right, not realising the sudden terror she instilled in him that this was his dismissal, “I don’t want to have any regrets,” she knew that sounded a bit morbid and tried to look less intense, more flirtatious, but her slightly warring expressions did little to ease his worry until she pressed her hand flat against his abs and slid her other up to his neck and whispered, nearly shyly, “I want you.”

His whole face shifted; something primal and satisfied and wanting, and he grabbed her face – almost hard – in his hands and nearly-growled back, “I want _everything_ with you.”

Evie’s heart stopped, she was sure of it, and he leaned down and kissed her relentlessly. It took them moments to stumble back down the hallway, still partly interlocked, and into his room. The second the door shut behind them Chuck turned and presses her between his hard body and the door, his hands sliding up and down her waist, under the curve of her breasts, down to her hips, and his mouth is over hers and consuming her. It’s like fighting him again, she realises in a moment of clarity, like they’re moving as one again – almost competitive in their desire – magnetised and intense, and then she has literally no thought left over than to keep kissing him, to keep feeling him and his hands on her. He pulls away for a moment, hands under her blouse, and she pushes him back a touch to yank her own top off, letting him slide it over her head, and watching as he pulls his own t-shirt off. They stare at each other, eyes locked, and she wants to smirk when his dart down first and his hands slowly slide up from her hips, his eyes, lidded and dark, onto her breasts, HE cupped them softly and his hands are slightly calloused but the pressure is so sure and soft and he grazes his hands over her breasts, thumbs digging and flicking over her hard nipples for a moment, before coming up to the tops of the curves; his fingers sliding up her shoulder and under the straps. He looks back at her, a quick question perhaps, and she responds her affirmative with a soft smile and a teasing hand sliding across his own abs and chest. He tugs the straps down and latches his mouth on her collarbone, teasing and sucking at the skin there, his hands moving over her breasts again and squeezing and cupping them and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples repeatedly and she hears her head thud back against the wall as she whispers, “That feels good.”

The assurance is all Chuck needs to continue, his mouth moving from her collarbone across her neck, leaving small marks – his intention – and down to her breast. He presses light kisses to the mounds, snakes his hands around to undo the clasp, with a semi-awkward fiddle that makes Evie smile, and finally undoes her bra, before his hands slide straight down to her bum and lifts her up, pulling her up so that she is at his eye level and her bra and shoes fall off. Her legs twine around his waist and he grinds into her, making her wriggle and kiss him hard and wantonly. He knows he needs to focus on her for longer, with more intensity and care, because he knows that he might burst when she touches him. She pulls away from the kiss and slides her hands and fingernails across his back, and he moves his head back down to her breasts, his access easier now, his hand holding her butt firmly in place. His mouth suctions across her breasts and soon his teeth and lips are locked around and grazing at her nipple and she moans softly; the tension starting to build deep in her already and she shoves her hands into his hair and presses herself into him more fully and says, “I think we should take more clothes off,” quietly and suggestively. He doesn’t need much more encouragement than that, lowering her to the floor and delighted when her hands go straight to his jean button and zipper. She shoves his trousers down his bum, and he steps away to pull them off, leaving his boxer-briefs on for now, because he isn’t finished with her body yet and she eyes him and the tent in his underwear and bites her lip, reaching for him. He grins, smirks really, but grabs both her wrists in one hand and tugs her arms above her head. He takes a minute to pull her trousers down, shoving one foot in them as they pool at her ankles so she can tug her bare feet out with a soft giggle. He keeps hold of her hands but steps back slightly and lets his gaze roam. She is the most perfect thing he has ever seen: much like he has imagined and guessed at from his admiration and observation. The reality is almost too much. She is, he realises, the perfect hourglass. She is slim and toned, small at the waist with breasts that should seem too big but instead their fullness match and emphasise her tucked in waist and slim limbs. He looks back at her, her face confident and uncertain all at once, and he says meaningfully, as coherently as he can, “You’re gorgeous. You’re so damn gorgeous.”

She beams at him and wriggles a touch in his grip, “So are you.” She raises an eyebrow, “Come here.”

He immediately presses against her and only lets go of her hands when she tiptoes up and presses against him even tighter. The feel of her body on his is almost too much and he knows she can feel his erection pushing into hips. He wraps his arms around her back, one sliding low and feeling, with delight, over her brazilian-cut black knickers and the bare flesh of her bum. She kisses his collarbone and chest and he dips his head down and takes her mouth with his own; lifting her up again slightly under the bum. She wriggles in his grip and he lifts her completely, carrying her over to his bed and laying her down on it, crouched over her. She kisses him fiercely and juts herself up into him and whines, “Chuck,” needily in such an arousing way that he worries if she does it again he’ll just come then and there.

He pulls away from her, kissing down her body, his hands hovering and rubbing over the spots his mouth has been, until he gets to the waistband of her knickers. She lets her legs flop down from his hips, arches herself to lift her head to look up at him and slides her own hand down her body – he watches her like he is memorising everything – and hooks her finger into the waistband. “I want you Chuck,” she repeats her early statement and he hooks his fingers next to hers and slowly pulls her underwear down. He keeps his eyes on hers as he does so; not letting himself look at her until one leg is out of the knickers and she opens her legs up to him. His expression as he focuses on her cunt is rapt; he looks as if he will eat her alive, and god she hopes he will. He looks over her naked form again, on his bed, wanting him, her cunt wet for him, and knows there will not be many moments in his life more perfect, or important, than this. He presses forward and kisses her opening, his mouth moving over vulva and labia and clit with determined and needy attention; he is sucking and licking at her with such intent that she already knows she is going to come quicker than anyone else has ever made her. His hands grip at her waist, one starts to slide down and she whines, on the edge already, when he slides two fingers inside of her. He wants to look up and see her face, but he won’t stop until she has orgasmed, so he tilts his head just slightly to the right, eyes able to sweep up and see her chest heaving and just catch a glimpse of her lip between her teeth, and she suddenly gasps, as he hits a new spot, “Oh god, Chuck, don’t stop. That’s it.”

He loves that she tells him; that he doesn’t need to guess or worry; he can trust her to tell him how she feels and what she wants and she proves him right again and makes him even harder and hornier and more in love with her when she says, “Chuck, please, don’t stop. Right there.”

It doesn’t take much longer for his ministrations to cause her to nearly stop breathing, and he can feel her legs start to shake and her walls begin to clench around his fingers and she moans, “I’m so close Chuck, don’t stop.” And then, with the slightest extra pressure from his tongue, she gasps loudly, “I’m coming. Oh god…” her moan is throaty and drawn out and the most attractive sound he has ever heard. He only stops when her hand flops against his head and she sort-of pulls her hips away. He sits up, pressing kisses to the insides of her thighs and her stomach and she pushes herself up into nearly-sitting and looks at him with dark, impressed and sated eyes and says, “That was amazing.” She really means it.

He grins, smug as ever, and leans down over her to kiss her, and he is delighted when she opens her mouth - tasting herself on his tongue – and kisses him fiercely. She presses herself to him, pulls his body down to hers, pulls his head away and latches her mouth under his ear and says, “I have the implant, Chuck.”

It’s both an invitation and a direct fact to tell him what she wants and what is next and he pulls away, looks at her and watches her eyes and face turn flirtatious and more alert as she slides her hand down his front, twists and smooths her hand over his erection a few times as he groans and drops his head to her breasts, kissing her there as she reaches her hand inside his boxers and grasps at his erection firmly. She slides her hand up and down a few times, and Chuck has to hold his breath, until she pulls her hand out, and starts sliding his boxers down. She struggles with one hand and with his body over hers so he kneels up, yanks his boxers down and pulls his knees out of them as fluidly as he can. She stares at his cock, eyes wide, and licks her lips suggestively. God, does he want that – but not now, he wants and needs to be inside her and to be _with_ her. He leans over her again and she wriggles her legs further apart, draws her knees up a touch and he lines himself with her entrance. “Evie,” he hears himself, rather than means to, say her name quietly and she sits up a touch more, trails a hand across the arm she can reach and says his name in response, like an invitation again. He leans down, kissing her deeply as he starts to push in her, and then presses his face against hers, wanting to look at her, eyes locked, when he is fully embedded in her. Her eyes on his, the depth of the moment, and the hot, wet tightness of her wrapped around him: this is another perfect moment. He knows he will come soon – because this is too much almost, and she bucks into him, kissing him longingly, and he starts to move. Chuck isn’t stupid; he’s old enough to know, and experienced enough, that she probably won’t orgasm like this – most women don’t – and that he certainly, this time around, won’t have the ability to multifunction enough to get her there as best as he can with penetration and his hands. He moves slowly at first, burying his face into her neck, and lifts her up, still inside her, so she is straddled across his thighs and they are pressed together as tight as they can be. He kisses her neck and moves more; thrusting up and bouncing her, the feel of her breasts bouncing against his chest, her soft murmurs of encouragement and the feel of her hands trailing across his back and shoulders softly, then harder, then with her fingernails grazing lightly, and he is so close already, that he whispers, “This is going to be fast Evie.”

She kisses his shoulders and says, breathless at the increase in speed and power he is starting to use, “I want you to come in me Chuck.” He snaps his hips hard again at that, groans against her throat and flips them so she is back on her back again, legs curled tight around his hips, and he starts to chant her name on-off, with lines like “You feel so fucking good,” and “You’re so perfect,” interspersed and she adores him, and this, so much that she starts to squeeze her muscles around him, sucking him further inside and tighter, and he grinds hard into her and she knows he is going to come soon because he is groaning and moaning, no words, just her name occasionally and she whispers, “Come inside me Chuck.” And he does.

He snaps his hip twice more; groans heavily, mouth latched against her neck and swears quietly as he comes – she can feel it inside her. He stays on top of her for a quiet moment, and she strokes his back lovingly, and he kisses her neck again like he is coming to. “Ok?” she whispers quietly as he props himself over her and says, “Give me a minute,” gruffly but with a smile. She smiles suggestively, “Ok, but we’re not done.”

He grins, kisses her hard, pulls out and sits up, eyeing the cum spilling out of her and wonders how many more perfect moments can come out of this night. “I like this,” he tells her, before worrying it might sound a bit gross to her, a bit caveman.

“Me covered in you?” she asks, voice teasing and reassuring him, and he smirks, “Exactly.”

She flushes under his intense, filthy gaze, before he helps her up. She wobbles to the bathroom as he cleans himself with his discarded t-shirt and then sits on the edge of his bed, watching her walk back from the bathroom – still naked and smiling. She worms her way between his thighs and he holds her by her hips; rubbing his thumbs over her hipbones and slowly sliding one up to her waist. She loops her arms over his shoulders and pushes forward, deliberately holding her breasts in front of his face teasingly, before leaning down slightly and kissing him softly. He pulls her into his lap and she sits over him. They sit quietly for a moment; entangled and sated and happy.

It doesn’t take long for his body to start to respond.

The rest of their night is their bodies intertwined; testing and trying each other’s pleasures and desires. It is heated and intense and rough, and sometimes soft and teasing and romantic. They are up for hours as they recover and chat and kiss, and they eventually fall asleep still entwined and with Chuck’s mouth pressed against her shoulder.

She wakes him up the next day by wriggling out from under him, grinning at his muffled but sweet, “Mornin’ beautiful,” and kissing her way down his body. They’re both glad it’s a Saturday and there are, for once, no meetings. They don’t think about why – about why this weekend is really an ‘off’ one if there are no alarms.

*

Later that day, after they have showered – Evie back in her own rooms for some time to ‘recover’ she teases him – they pick up Max from Herc and walk the base. Chuck keeps an arm around her shoulder at all times; slung casually but purposefully and he aggressively eyes anyone who glances too long their way. Even when they make it to lunch, his arm remains hooked around her, and Evie waves at the Beckett’s, Mako and Tendo who all stare, smile politely back, but look a mixture of surprised and curious. They take their lunch to go and it is only when they have eaten – Evie giving Chuck a sharp, but loving, lecture on his delight at Yancy’s pain at ‘not getting the girl’ – that he pulls something wrapped in newspaper out his pocket.

He holds it in his hand for a moment before handing it to Evie, who takes it - surprised.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” Chuck replies, a touch gruffly, as if he is nervous and on the edge of being defensive. He is watching her closely with sharp eyes, softening slightly when she smiles and starts to unravel it.

A ring falls out – a thin, clearly-hand soldered piece of silver. Evie stares at it; Chuck stares at her and watches, impassive and ready with lines to play or bat off any jokes she might make, but all she does is quietly ask, “Did you make this?” Her face is so earnest and so sweet that he can only nod back. “I love it; it’s so beautiful.” She keeps hold of it for a moment, tight in her grip, and then very coyly and very carefully asks, “What’s it for?” She knows he’s not proposing or anything like that, but she wants to create a moment here – funny and romantic and also testing, to see what he will say.

“Consider it a late birthday present,” her birthday had been in June, a few weeks before the Hong Kong move, he discovered recently. It was the smartest, safest answer he could give.

But still very sweet, Evie thought, and she grinned again, sliding it onto the ring finger of her right hand. It was a touch loose but not enough to fall off and she knew she could ask, at another time, him to tighten it. “Like a promise ring?”

His eyebrows shot up for a moment and she hoped he realised she was joking; and is relieved when he smirked, took hold of her right hand and kissed the inside of her wrist and said cockily, “I promise to repeat last night with you again and again…” he pulled her body into his and kissed her bruisingly. She likes that promise, and the unsaid one too – what the ring, his efforts, represent.

*

Two months later, longer than they all expect to have, so long they start to become paranoid about what is coming, what’s happening in the breach, and Geiszler and Gottleib are working insane hours and Evie, Tendo and the Marshall spend many hours with them, theorising and debating. Yancy and Raleigh train Mako, the Marshall having been convinced Mako was still a better option than another recruit, and the Hansen’s and Kaidonovsky’s support. Within 6 weeks, they are working as one unit – the ‘research’ team and the pilots all in the same meetings; same training sessions; they are eating lunches ‘take away’ and still planning altogether. There is never any mention of Chuck’s and Evie’s relationship; although it’s no secret – she kisses his cheek often, he keeps a hand on her whenever he is close enough no matter where they are, they flirt and tease and always meet each other’s eyes across rooms, reading each other’s faces constantly. It’s only Raleigh and Herc that ever ask, ‘You two together?’ and once they get answers – a straightforward ‘Yep’ from Chuck both times, there is nothing more to say. Yancy hesitates when speaking to Evie still, a touch hurt by her choices, but as the weeks pass they can all see how Chuck simmers down with Evie; keeps himself in check as much as possible; is more reasonable and kind, and how he makes her a bit more direct and relaxed – how she looks at him for reassurance before making bold, critical statements that are always true and always need to be said.

When the 3 kaiju breach, as Gottlieb predicts, all the jaegers are sent out. There are two category 4s and one 3 and it is made abundantly clear that Striker takes the 3 – that Striker still, as the quickest, needs to be the one to deploy the nuke. Evie sucks in deep breaths, trying to stay calm, her only relief that Striker will be rescued – no matter the cost to the other jaegers - if worst come to worst. She hovers at the Shatterdome bay, waiting for Chuck to appear in his drivesuit, and when he turns the corner, Max’s lead tight in his hands, he shoots her a smirk. She knows his cockiness is confidence, and a front, and she knows he is doing it for her – to make her relax. She makes herself smile back and decides she cannot cry, she must not cry. He reaches and she latches on to him tightly, pressing kisses to his neck as she whispers, “Good luck, stay safe, kick arse.” He laughs at the last line and pulls back, kisses her hard and fast once and then hands her Max’s lead.

“I always kick arse darling.”

He calls her ‘darling’ so often now but every time it makes her smile.

“I know babe.” She loves to call him babe – there is something playful, and silly and still sexy about it. He grins and then the others start to appear and Evie steps away, gives them all a wave and a ‘good luck’, hoping against hope Mako’s training pays off and they all make it. Sasha, who she is now very fond of, gives her a slow wink and Evie grins back at her, even as her heart thumps against her ribs and she watches them all go to their Conn-Pod elevators. She watches Chuck ascend and when he disappears from her view she makes her way up to the Loccent.

It is a hellish experience – all 3 of them out there fighting at once – she, Tendo, Pentecost and Yancy all shouting into the comms, checking the scans, watching as they struggle. Even Newt and Herman have appeared. They are all horrified when Striker and Gipsy have finally taken out their kaijus, and Gipsy moves into to support Alpha when their category 4, codenamed: Streak, emits a spurt of blue acid rain and an EMP burst from a sac under its mouth. Two of the jaegers and the whole Loccent stop.

Evie can barely breathe as the others run around her to back up the power, to start the generators, and she can only think of Chuck – helpless now – and how only Gipsy, which still runs analogue, can save him.

She needs to move, needs to be busy or she will stop _functioning_ until she sees Chuck again so she struggles alongside Tendo into the power boxes and they take the Marshall’s barked instructions and work hard. It takes them 15minutes to get full function back, and not long after, Yancy connects with Gipsy through the analogue line.

Evie hears the crackling, the sound of thrashing, and Raleigh’s bellowed instructions, but it doesn’t take them long to tear the bulge from the kaiju and missile Streak into lumps to sink into the ocean.

The hawks are sent out and the comms start to re-align and all is well, except, “Dad’s injured,” Chuck croaks into the comms, “We’ll need a medic.”

*

Herc cannot pilot with his son. As they plan for the breach, Chuck will have to pilot with the Marshall. It is a concern for everyone; Chuck tries hard to stay calm, to not feel any sense of fear at the change – he knows how impressive the Marshall is, knows his successes. But to have him in his drift? For such an event…

It worries Evie too; it worries them all. But no one more than Herc, because he _knows_ Pentecost the best and he knows he is already dying and that this makes it more of a suicide mission than before. He knows his son might be Pentecost’s personal collateral damage. He says nothing to anyone in the first few days of planning; his physical pain nothing more than a salt to his internal agony. He should be the one to go; he should be the one to die.

The afternoon before the planned detonation approaches – for they have to take it to them; they cannot afford to wait for another breach, to delay any longer- Herc, whilst Chuck and the Marshall train together, asks Evie to take Max for a walk with him. She knows he has been wanting to speak to her; it was her eyes who his gaze sought first when he arrived back, injured. She is terrified of what he is going to tell her.

They have rounded the base, making small talk, when he leads her into the Shatterdome and they head towards Striker’s base – watching the engineers at work. When he looks at her, his eyes are red-rimmed and his face is so terribly sad that Evie feels her own tears well up. She doesn’t want to hear the grim truths she fears he is going to tell her.

It is a surprise, though still agonising, when he instead says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s not me going instead of Chuck; that I can’t be there to protect him and get him back.”

Evie starts to cry, her face scrunched tight for a moment to try and stop the tears, and Herc steps forward and wraps his good arm around her. He doesn’t hold her for long before he whispers, “I know what you two mean to each other – I know he loves you. We just have to hope...” He has wet eyes of his own when he looks back at her.

And then he is gone, leaving her alone at the foot of the jaeger, Max at his side in his lead, and Evie stands till, tears dripping, and thinks on what he has told her. She knows what he might have seen in the drift, moments between her and Chuck and she knows he is telling her of what’s in Chuck’s head – their _love_ – because he wants her to make sure Chuck knows it too.

When she has calmed herself, showered, stopped crying, she goes to dinner. Chuck is already there – straight from his own post-training shower with still wet hair – and he eyes her curiously, wondering where she was. She says little; they are all eating quickly, ready for their final meeting before the next day.

The meeting – as Pentecost’s meetings always are – is concise, short and brutal. He is not a pep-talker or an inspirational man. But he is direct. They have a shot. They can do this. He talks of the extraction plans and the priorities. Evie knows they are all struggling with the weight of it all and she makes sure to give them all, to the Kaidonovksy’s surprise, a tight hug goodnight. Chuck takes her hand and leads her away, seeming casual and unconcerned but his hand is tight around hers, and he leads her into his room and kisses her immediately and reverently. His kisses are desperate and rough and all-consuming and he is holding her so tight, his hands gripping on as if to leave prints, that she struggles to stop. She pulls back though, determined, Herc’s words in her mind, and says quietly, holding her face in his hands gently, “Your dad spoke to me. About your drift; about me in it… he told me you loved me.” She won’t hide this from him. He stares back at her, shakes his head a little crossly, but she continues before he can verbally react, “and I know it’s hard for you to talk about your feelings and I want you to know it’s scary for me too, but he knows how I feel for you and… I’m in love with you Chuck Hansen.”

Her eyes on his are glassy with tears, and so beseeching, and so full of _so much_ that Chuck just stares at her in wonder for a moment, before he says softly, his heart full and pained, “He was right about it all Evie; I’m in love with you too, more than anything.” It’s not fair, they both think, that this is all they might get. Months of this when it should have been forever.

Evie smiles tearfully and kisses him softly, lingering and melting into him. They entwine themselves in their sorrow and love and fear. His kisses and his touch on her is searing – there is a desperation to all the their movements; everything is hurried and slightly rough. He tears his mouth from hers and tugs her jumper over her head, his hands immediately moving down to her trousers and pulling them down. She wiggles out of them and he spins her around to undo her bra and she stumbles when he turns her back to face him, drops to his knees and starts to pull her knickers down. She steps out of them quickly and he looks up at her, his eyes are so dark and so needy and, it makes her heart hurt to notice, almost frantic. He cups her calves gently, sliding his hands and his gaze up her legs, curling his grip into the backs of her thighs for a moment, then gliding his hands over her bum, her hips and her waist, hovering again for a moment there and pressing kisses from her belly and up across her breasts. His hand starts to move again as he pulls away, cupping her breasts, sliding across the mounds to her shoulders, then hovering at her neck and nape. He stands up, eyes on hers again, and bends down to kiss her softly. He wants to memorise this feeling; her trust in how she lets him view every part of her and touch her and love her. When he pulls away, her eyes are glassy again. He cannot bear the thought of her crying and so he kisses her hard and her hands start scrambling across him immediately; it takes them less than a minute to get all of his clothes off too and his hand dips immediately between her thighs. She edges her legs apart, making her even shorter than him still, and he bends down and slides his fingers over her slit. She is wet and slippery and he groans, using his other hand to pull her head against his chest, his arm the only barrier to their bodies fully touching, and rests his head against the cold of the door as his fingers begin to move across her labia and her clit. He presses down on her clit and circles it, repeating these motions as she starts to murmur her encouragements and gasps of pleasure against his chest, pressing kisses there often as her hands lightly scratch up and down his spine. She starts to shift her legs slightly further apart and his fingers slide down to her entrance, his thumb still pressing on her clit, and he slides two fingers into her. She groans at the feeling but snakes her own hand down between to his wrist and holds his hand still. “Chuck,” her voice is almost pained, and he worries for a second that he has hurt her, or that she wants to stop, and he lifts his head away to glance down at her, “Fuck me.”

It takes him seconds to lift her up, position himself at her entrance and push himself in, eyes locked on hers as she rests her head against the door. She closes her eyes for a second as he holds himself still and then opens them, “Hard, Chuck.” Her instructions and desires are clear and, as usual, match with his. This what they both need right now. This is how they will cope.

He kisses her hard, even half-bites at her lips and down her neck and sucks hard as he begins, slowly at first, to pump in her. Once he is sure he has left a mark on her neck, he pulls nearly all the way out, grips her bum and hip harder still and slams into her. His pace is relentless; his speed intense and overwhelming and he keeps his chest pressed tight against hers to stop her banging into the door so much. She grips at his back, nearly clawing him with her nails. He knows this will not get her off; but also that this sex wasn’t really about orgasm for either of them – there is pleasure and pain in this fucking; it is more of a distraction; more of a therapy for them. He is nearly hammering into her and his grip only tightens the closer he gets to orgasm and she is moaning encouragingly in his ear, and kissing his neck and shoulders, “Harder Chuck. Fuck me, come in me Chuck.” He loves her so much and she feels so good, her body tight against his and he starts to lose control, starts to see nothing but black and feel nothing but a tight coil of tight pleasure and his hips snap erratically, and he slams into her two more times, orgasming in her with a deep, low groan, “Fuck.”

He sighs when he is finished, but pushes forward to keep her pressed between him and the door and he wishes he could stay inside her, with her, forever. He pulls out eventually and carefully sets her down, kissing her softly. She pulls away, kisses his neck and wordlessly heads to his bathroom to clean herself up. He leans naked against the door and closes his eyes, only opening them when he hears the bathroom door open and she appears in the frame. She looks so beautiful he thinks, and he manages to croak it out, making her smile as she slowly walks over to him. She takes both his hands and he feels the ring he gave her, ever present, on her right hand, and slowly tugs him over to the bed, pushing him down onto it and sitting astride his hips, his flaccid, recovering penis, under her. His hands rest on her thighs, smoothing across them, and she rests hers on his abs.

“I love you,” he murmured, eyes intent on her face, and he watches her smile blossom across her face, and she leans down, pressing her chest into his and kisses his neck, up to his ear, before whispering, “I love you too.”

They stay embrace like that for a few minutes, breathing in the smell of each other, enjoying the intimacy of their position and the silence. Chuck’s hands soon start to slide over hips and he rolls her over swiftly, making her giggle as he tugs her hands above her head in one hand and keeps the other on her hip. He leans over her and says, voice gravelly and seductive, “I’m going to make you cum until you beg me to stop.” She grins and leans up to kiss him, but he moves his head at the last second so she only reaches his cheek. He turns back to face her when she pulls back, looking a little confused, until he growls, “Did I say you could kiss me yet?”

Oh god, she thinks, her pulse increasing and the desire in her tripling at what she hopes is going to unfold. They had talked about their ‘kinks’ and both found they liked the idea of him dominating her – his macho ego swelled at the thought of her being submissive to him; of ‘controlling’ her pleasure and being solely responsible for it mirrored her enjoyment of his passion for her and her desire to just give in, forget any worries and trust him with her body. They had experimented in the few weeks; with her surprising him by taking control and ‘teasing’ him with unexpected blow jobs, but this was the first time he had engaged fully with a dominating dialogue too.

She blinked at him coquettishly and whispered, “Please.”

He smirked, “I have something else to do with my mouth.” He kissed her neck, down her breasts and latched his teeth and lips around of her nipples, knowing how sensitive she was when he lightly grazed his teeth across them. He continued his ministrations and moved his other hand – the one not pinning her wrists to the bed – down her hip and lifted in his head to order her harshly, “Open your legs for me.”

She did so immediately so, her desire and pleasure already stripping her of speech, and he smirked again, his eyes dark, “Good girl.” His fingers found her slit and clit again, arching and pushing and pulling against them, focussing on her more sensitive left side as his mouth moved to her other breast. Before long she was nearly panting under the combined attention and she gasped his name as he slid his fingers finally into her, curling them a touch and rubbing his thumb up and down her clit. He lifted his head from her chest to look at her; her mouth parted, her teeth biting and releasing her lower lip repetitively and her eyes closed tight. Her chest was heaving, then stopping as she held her breath - a sure sign she was close to orgasm. “Open your eyes and look at me.” He didn’t stop his hand movements as she opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly, her arms stretched above, lifting her breasts with her movement.

She locked her eyes on his and shakily said, “Chuck, please.”

“Please?” he smirked, kissing her bruisingly, “Are you begging me already?” He dragged his thumb slower across her clit and started to circle it with an increase in pace, knowing that would edge her closer, “You’re a little slut for me aren’t you?”

They had agreed terms for their dirty talk – he would never have called her such otherwise, and Evie knew this and it turned her on even more. He dropped his head back to her breasts, sucked in a nipple into her mouth again and his cock swiftly became fully erect again when she moaned, “Just for you Chuck, please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t, he never would if he had his way, and soon she was panting in short bursts and her walls were beginning to clench around him and she moaned, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He only stopped when she bucked her hips into his fingers and then jerked away – a sign he had learnt meant she was done.

He pulled his fingers out of her, and let go of her wrists at least, kneeling up and looking down at her smugly. 

She was catching her breath as she opened her eyes and slowly smiled up at him, one of her hands lifting to reach for him when he captured it tightly and said, eyebrows raised, “Did I say you could move?”

She sucked in another excited breath and shook her head silently.

“Did I say I was finished with you?”

She shook her head again and he dropped her hand back to the other, still above her head, and leant down to kiss her slowly, sensually, until she was arching up into him, desperate to loop her fingers through his hair and he pulled, sat back and pulled her legs further apart. He studied her pink and glistening cunt with admiration and desire, before he ducked his head down and licked slowly up the slit and centre, knowing how sensitive she would be still. She gasped in a breath as he continued to lick at her, with a firm and sure pressure from his tongue sliding up and down and across her clit and then diving, unexpectedly, into her opening. He probed at her and then pulled his tongue out, pressing it flat against her and dragging it slowly up and down again, before he latched his mouth onto her clit and sucked and pulsed his tongue over it until she was nearly crying his name and her thighs were twitching around his head and he kept going even as she gasped out that she was coming, not letting up until she gasped, “Oh god Chuck, I can’t, it’s too much.” He looked up at her and asked, serious, “Do you want me to stop?” He wanted to know this wasn’t too much; that this was still pleasure for her and that this was a real request. She took a moment to regather herself before she said, “No,” shakily.

He dove his head back down and continued and it didn’t take long for her to let out a long moan and he could practically feel her whole body tremble, “Fuck,” she swore as she came again, her thighs locking around Chuck’s head and keeping in place, “Oh fuck Chuck.”

When he finally moved away from her, he was so hard it was hurting but he could see she was still coming down, so he edged closer but did not touch her, except keeping a hand on her thigh until she moaned again, “Fuck me Chuck, I want you inside me now.” Her voice was a touch shaky, her eyes still closed, chest heaving still, but she was firm.

He positioned himself at her entrance, scooped her closer with his arms under her hips so his hands could hold her waist, and he waited until her eyes were open again until he started to push into her slowly. “That feels so good Chuck,” she said quietly, relishing – as he was – in the feeling of him filling her.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, sliding in and out of her and keeping his eyes on hers, before bending down and kissing her, “I love fucking you.”

She arched up into him, “Me too,” and as they kissed he stopped his movements, pulling away and out of her, sitting up and, his voice low again, “Roll over.”

She felt the beginnings of a grin creep up her face but rolled over quickly, lifting her head and resting on her forearms and arched her back, feeling with pleasure his large hands grip at her hips and butt cheeks and lifting her up and lining himself back up with her, pushing back into her vagina as he leaned down over her, his chest pressed tight against her back, her bum pressed tight against his crotch. He held her waist with one hand and the other reached up and curled over her hand, feeling the ring under his fingers again. He pressed kisses along her shoulders, her upper back and the back of her head as he fucked her; the pace relentless but steady. He dropped his head against her shoulder as he came; quietly moaning her name into her ear and then collapsing on top of her, squishing her between him and the bed, still inside her.

They spent the rest of that night curled up together; kisses roaming and whispers of love as they traced each other’s bodies and brought every inch of pleasure they could to each other until they were both exhausted.

When Evie woke up the next morning, Chuck was in the kitchen, having showered already and was making coffee. He brought her over a mug the moment she was out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed as she scooted up and took the mug with a slow, soft smile. Neither of them spoke until Chuck took the mug from her after a moment, put in on his side table and took both her hands in his.

“Reckon I could love you forever,” he started quietly, his eyes dancing over her face and smiling when she smiled, starting to slide the ring he had given her off her hand. She looked confused, and worried, until he said, shy and loving, “Would make an honest woman out of you.” He held the ring out to her left hand.

Evie stared at the ring and then lifted her eyes to his, “Chuck,” she felt her eyes well up and she grinned, unbearably happy, “I’m yours.”

He grinned, slid the ring onto her wedding finger and pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. She pushed forward into his arms to kiss him fervently; and before long they were tangled up together again.

Later, when she was in the shower and Chuck had collected Max to walk with Herc, she gripped the ring tight in her hands, curled onto the floor of the shower cubicle and wept, overcome with her fear, desperate panic and grief.

*

It is only an hour later when they were all called to the Shatterdome and Evie is hovering at the elevator to Striker’s Conn-Pod, waiting to see Chuck. She tries not to think about how this might be the last time she sees him; about how much she loves him; about the ring on her left hand and the marks he has left on her skin and how they could be the only evidence of his existence in her life in a few short hours. She shakes and her eyes are glassy with tears and she wills herself not to cry. The minute she sees him striding towards her, the tears fall. She has said her goodbyes already to the Kaidonovskys, Mako and Raleigh and Pentecost – not that anyone used the word ‘goodbye’. She could keep it together then; now she is weeping openly and Chuck’s eyes are filled with tears when he reaches her. She knows he has already had an emotional moment with his father and with Max and she wraps herself around him when he is in reach.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, and he feels her tears against his neck and cheek.

He holds her for as long as he can bear, and until Pentecost is in the Conn-Pod waiting. He pulls back, kisses her longingly and lovingly and with every feeling he has in him and says, though his eyes are wet, with as much confidence as he can muster, “I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

Evie nearly whimpers, but forces herself to smile shakily, “Kick arse,” she kisses him one last time, “and come back to me.”

She steps away and keeps her eyes on his as he enters the Conn-Pod. She watches it travel all the way up and turns away only when she knows they are unloading. Herc is waiting for her at the Loccent elevator, Max sitting sadly at his side, and he wraps his good arm around her and leads her away.

*

When they near the breach 4 kaiju appear, as expected from Newt’s and Hermann’s studies and kaiju drifts: there are 3 category 4s and one category 5. They are circling eerily for a long time; as if they are waiting and watching.

“Alpha, Gipsy,” Herc barks into the comms as the kaiju’s edge closer and the pilots start to back and forth with questions and concerns – Chuck’s annoyed “What the bloody hell are they doing?” almost makes Evie laugh – “watch Striker; these kaiju bastards cannot get hold of that detonator.”

“Copy that Loccent,” Sasha replies coolly, moving in closer to Striker as they edge nearer the breach.

As if the kaiju had heard Herc’s comments they move in suddenly and all at once.

There is so much noise from the comms, so much movement on the scanners, that Herc, Yancy and Tendo are almost all shouting instructions at once – with the pilots all shouting back instructions to each other and questions to the Loccent.

“Alpha!” Evie shouts in the comms as she spots two of the kaiju moving in at once on Alpha, abandoning their attempts to get to Striker’s front, “Watch your back- 2 moving in!”

Alpha turns, but too slow, and is tackled by one of the kaiju whilst the other leaps on top of its helmet and tears at them. They are slowly being pulled apart, but there is little Gipsy or Striker can do, each of them battling another kaiju and trying to stop the detonator being accessed.

They can all hear the Kaidonovksy’s panicked and agonised yells; the unbearable crushing and shredding of armour; the desperation in the voices of the other pilots who cannot get to them, and all their own voices in the Loccent trying to offer advice and support. It isn’t long until their vital signs vanish from the scanners and they all know Alpha is down.

Losing the Kaidonovksy is awful, but the real terror begins when Gipsy and Striker have 4 kaiju’s to deal. Gipsy loses a leg, but manages to kill the smaller of the kaiju, and Striker is taking a battering, with Gipsy barely able to keep the kaiju’s from its back where the detonator lies.

“We can’t hold them for long!” Raleigh shouts into the comms, “We need to get into that breach! Striker- make a break for it, we’ll watch your six!”

“No!” Pentecost bellows back, the missiles firing over his voice, “You won’t manage it – we need a distraction! If we detonate now, we can take them out – Gipsy, you’ll have to brace and use your core!”

It is a sudden change of plan, off the course they had planned and argued and theorised, and Evie realises with horror that if Striker detonates any chance of Chuck surviving are gone. She cannot speak at the thought; she cannot even move as she hears Mako yell back, “No! We can hold them – just go!” Her pain is evident; she will lose her adopted father, her mentor, her only family, if Pentecost dies.

Herc and Evie exchange a look as Chuck’s voice comes over the comms, “He’s right – it’s the only way. We can get these bastards now, but Gipsy – we need you to get that damn breach.”

Nobody speaks or replies, the kaiju are circling again – no one has a better idea. It is a broken silence only when Newt shakily takes the comm and says, “Gipsy – don’t forget you need a kaiju to enter.”

“Copy that,” Raleigh replies and Pentecost’s voice floats back over the comms, “Brace yourselves. We got a shot here.”

Chuck’s voice, gravelly but confident, and god Evie loves him so much, adds “My father always said if you have a shot, you take it.” Herc ducks his head next to Evie, who lets out a sob as Chuck adds, “And it got me Evie.”

She manages to grab the comms and say, “It did.” She hopes he can hear her grin, her love.

There is no further communication, except when Pentecost orders Gipsy’s to brace.

Evie turns away from the screens and scanners and pressed her hand to her mouth to stop from screaming and squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to be in the room – doesn’t want this life right now – and she cannot bear the thought that Chuck is about to die. Max whines at her legs and she drops next to him and wraps her arms about and feels the tears leak from her eyes. She is silent in her agony.

The silence is awful, until Tendo shouts, “There’s a pod release – wait! Signs showing pod release from Striker! Jumphawks get out there – no signal from pod but it’s out!”

Evie leaps up and spins and grabs Herc’s arm. It could be Chuck. He could of got out; although the ‘how’ escapes her and she has no time to follow it up because Raleigh is shouting over the comms again – they have a kaiju and they’re entering the breach.

Time seems to stop. They lose Gipsy’s signal; they can’t get any life signs from Striker’s pod; they have no idea if they have succeeded.

And then the scanners buzz and light up and Tendo manages to croak, “Breach destabilising; they’re in, they’ve got in…” everyone seems to hold their breath until the scanners flat out – no signals at all, which can only mean, “Breach is destroyed!”

The cheer that erupts is cacophonous; elation roars from nearly everyone’s lungs. It is only really Newt, Hermann Tendo, Yancy, Herc and Evie that are still silent. Tendo turns to the other 3, he has sagged in relief, but he sees their pain, feels some of his own at the loss of his friends, and he reaches to Yancy for a hug, as Evie presses her face into Herc’s arm.

A blip on the scanners alerts them to a life sign – the scanners light up and Tendo yells into the comms, “We have two more pods. All three emerging soon – jumphawks can you get visuals?!”

Evie holds her breath and stares, wills one of them to be Chuck, to have life righted, to have her heart remain whole and waits as Tendo types into the scanners, and Gottleib leans down to help and soon enough the pods details start to flicker across the screen and there it is – Chuck’s name is on the scanner. He is alive and in the pod.

She doesn’t listen to anything else; barely takes in that Raleigh’s vital signs aren’t showing, that Mako has released from her pod; that Chuck is stirring in his. She realises that Tendo and Yancy are both trying to communicate with Raleigh and she grabs one of the other comms and barely whispers Chuck’s name into it. She needs to hear his voice to be certain, to believe.

There is a moment before he replies, “I’m ok darling.”

*

When they are reunited, the Shatterdome screaming with delight and shock, he holds her tight in his arms, kisses her over and over, releases her only to hug his father and Max, before he takes her back in his arm and says, smug and elated and relieved more than words can ever explain, “I came back to you.”

Evie grins into his neck and kisses him again, “I love you so much.”

“Good news,” he tilts her head up to his, “as I reckon you gotta marry me now.”

Evie laughs loudly and kisses him hard on the mouth, “Reckon you gotta properly ask.”

*

Later, when they are curled around each other in bed, Chuck tells her of how Pentecost had turned to him before detonation and told him to ‘Get in the damn pod – you have something to live for,” and set off the detonation once Chuck was in a clear range. Neither of them knew he would make – that he wouldn’t be spotted by kaiju or killed in the blast. When Chuck emerged in the water, he wasn’t sure – he whispered to Evie – that he was alive. He pressed a kiss to her neck and to her hand, where the ring glinted in the light, and said softly, “When I heard your voice, I knew I’d made it.”

Evie turned in the bed to face him fully, her legs tangled in his, and said, “When I heard yours, I knew it too. I’ve never been so happy in my whole life.”

Chuck grinned, “Except right now,” he sits up, presses her left hand against his mouth and kisses it softly, “Evie Greene, love of my life, hot piece of ass with,” she cackled at his smirk, “the biggest brain and heart,” he pauses again and she sort-of knows what’s coming but it still perfect when he eventually says, “will you marry me?”

“I reckon I will.” Her Aussie accent, mimicking his, is terrible – but he grins in delight and sinks back into the bed with his arms locked around her as she kisses him slowly: they have all the time in the world now, at last.


End file.
